


The Girl From the Stars

by Abbie01



Series: The Girl From the Stars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, In case you guys didn't already guess, Might get some things wrong, My first fanfic ever, My own twists on Star Wars, No Force Awakens, So yeah this is totally a fix-it, Some Swearing, This is inspired by the Star Wars Legends books, bear with me, little to no romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-02-09 18:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 83,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie01/pseuds/Abbie01
Summary: Master Shika Danai is missing. No one knows where she has gone, though the Jedi Council feels the Dark Side of the Force at work here. Zahra Rivers, Master Danai's apprentice, has left the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to search for her missing master. WIth her are the two droids, C-3PO and R2-D2, as well as fellow Jedi, Lowbacca. Together, the four of them traverse the glaxay searching for Master Danai, until an unexpected hole in space shoots them from their galaxy into another. Stranded on a planet with a damaged ship in need of repairs, Zahra Rivers joins a quest in the hopes of finding what she needs to repair her ship and get home again. With the aid of friends, both new and old, and with the Force to guide her, what could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction EVER and I don't know how good it is. The idea of a Jedi in Middle-Earth is probably not new, but I thought it sounded cool, so here is my attempt. I hope it's fun. I appreciate any criticism, though please be gentle. I don't own The Hobbit or Star Wars, only my original character. All rights to their respective owners.

**Chapter 1:**  
    Lowbacca’s roar of warning brought Zahra careening down the corridor and into the pilot’s room, right to the Wookiee’s side. “What is it?” she asked in Basic. Lowie replied with another roar, ending on a growl. The viewport in front of her showed her a swirl of color and matter, with an empty black center.

  
    “What the hell is that?” she exclaimed, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat.

  
    Lowie huffed in reply. Both Jedi looked at the controls. Zahra quickly scanned the anomaly and came back with… nothing.

  
    “Sensors say there’s nothing there,” she said, her voice showing her confusion. She and Lowie shared a look. He growled a question at her. “I don’t know that’s what the sensors say…but yeah, that’s clearly something.” Zahra was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know, Lowie,” she finally said, voice quiet, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Reverse thrusters. Let’s get out of here.”

  
    Growling an affirmative, Lowbacca reversed thrusters, but the ship gave a sudden jolt. Looking at a screen in front of her, Zahra cursed low. “A gravitational pull. How does it have one? We’re caught in it!”

  
    Lowie roared, ramming buttons, pulling levers, doing anything he could think of to break them free, all to no avail. They were being pulled into whatever it was.

  
    Zahra set to scanning every inch of the anomaly. She’d have Artoo analyze it later, if they survived. She suppressed a bitter laugh. If they survived? They’d better. She had a Master to find.

 

*

  
    Bilbo Baggins rolled over on the hard ground. Something was digging into his back. He sat up and pulled back his bedroll to look beneath it. A tree root. Perfect. The Hobbit stood, moved his bedroll to a smooth stretch of ground and curled up on it again, trying to sleep. But it was useless. With a huff, he sat up and looked around.

  
   Most of the others were asleep. Only Filí and Kilí were still awake, on watch by the fire. Bilbo knew that they had the last watch, which meant dawn was not far off. A glance to the East proved his theory correct: there was a faint strip of gray along the horizon.

  
  “Can’t sleep, Mr. Boggins?” Kilí asked with a cheeky grin. Beside him, Filí smirked.

  
   Even though he’d gotten used to the two teasing him, Bilbo still found it irritating. He huffed again, rolled his eyes and said, “No, I can’t, thank you. I’m not used to sleeping on the ground on a tree root!”

  
   The two dwarven brothers chuckled, then Kilí went back to watching the wilds around them, and Filí resumed his whittling. “No point in trying, either,” Bilbo continued, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “Dawn isn’t far off.” The brothers glanced east simultaneously, nodded and resumed their respective activities.

  
   For the next several minutes the three of them sat in silence. The sky continued to lighten, and the rest of their companions began to stir. Gandalf stood from where he’d been resting against a tree and counted quickly to himself, as if to make sure no one had been eaten in the night. He finished and, finding all of the Company present, smiled. Once everyone was awake they began a light breakfast of cheese, bread, and dried meat. The sun had yet to fully rise, but all were wide awake. Conversation in low rumbles had broken out, and everyone was beginning to stand and stretch their limbs for the march ahead of them, when Bilbo jerked his head up.

  
  “Quiet! Shhh!” Everyone stopped talking and looked over at him, some with curiosity, and others with irritation. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

  
   Silence descended upon the group and they all cocked their heads to listen better. They all heard it now: a dull roaring sound that could not have come from an animal or beast. All eyes jumped from Bilbo to Gandalf, as if, surely, the Wizard would know what it was. Yet he clearly didn’t as Gandalf the Gray’s brow was as furrowed in confusion as the rest of them.

  
   “What is it?!” Ori exclaimed. His brothers, Dori and Nori, stepped closer to him.

  
   “I do not know,” Gandalf murmured. Suddenly, the noise, no longer a dull roar, more like a great bellow, grew closer and the Wizard whirled, facing west as a great hulking shape, lit with strange fires, surged into view, skimming the treetops and flying overhead. It flew several meters, and then crashed.

  
   All the Company was quiet for a moment, and then Gandalf spoke. “Come!” Without waiting for an answer, he surged forward. Bilbo and the dwarves all looked at Thorin. He sighed, rolled his eyes and said, “Dori, Ori, stay with the ponies! The rest of you, with me!” He took off after the Wizard, Bilbo on his heels. Through the forest they moved, as silent as possible. Soon, they came across Gandalf, standing behind a tree, poking his head around to see. Bilbo and the others hurried to hide themselves too, and slowly looked around trees, bushes and boulders to see what had just fallen from the sky.

 

*

  
   Zahra sat up. The jolt of the landing had sent her flying from her seat. She winced and put a hand to her head. It was tender, but luckily not bleeding.

  
   “Lowie, you okay?” she asked.

  
   Lowbacca, who’d braced himself against the consul with his strong, hairy arms, nodded his great head and growled.

  
   “Good. Did the landing gear come down? It felt like we hit pretty hard.” Zahra slowly stood and checked her limbs. Nothing appeared broken, just sore.

  
   Lowie checked his instruments. He explained in growls, warbles, yowls, and grunts that the landing gear was down and perfectly fine. The problem was internal. The hyper-drive was broken. Again. Zahra groaned in annoyance.

  
  “Why doesn’t Han just get a new ship? It’s a pain in the ass having to fix this one time and again!” she exclaimed.

  
  "Mistress Zahra! Mistress Zahra!” a high voice filled with programmed anxiety sounded from behind her. She turned to behold the golden protocol droid, C-3PO.

  
  “I’m not your mistress!” she said, not for the first time. But it was useless. C-3PO always called her mistress, no matter how many times she told him not to.

  
  “Yes, of course,” the droid said. “Are you alright? Not hurt in anyway?”

  
  Zahra sighed and winced again. “I’m fine, just a bump on my head. I’ll be okay,” she assured him.

  
  “And Lowbacca?” Threepio asked. She noticed he never called Lowie “Master”.

  
  Lowie rumbled. He was okay.

  
  “How about you, Threepio? You okay? And Artoo?” Zahra asked.

  
  “We are both in excellent condition,” Threepio said. “Artoo is even now checking the computer to determine if anything is wrong.”

  
  “The hyper-drive needs to be repaired,” Zahra explained.

  
  “Again?” the droid said with a hint of exasperation.

  
  Zahra smiled wryly. “My sentiments exactly.”

  
  Lowbacca stood, easily towering over both the girl and the droid. He grumbled and marched off. He was going to check the outside of the Falcon to make sure nothing was damaged.

  
  “Sounds like a good idea,” Zahra mumbled and headed after him.

  
  “I’ll just stay on the ship then?” Threepio asked with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

  
  “Nope! Come on!” Zahra called back.

  
  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Threepio moaned and followed.

 

*

  
   “It’s opening!” Kilí exclaimed in a low voice.

  
  “Shhh!” Thorin hissed.

  
  Everyone stared as part of the great metal… thing… peeled away from the rest and settled on the ground, creating a ramp. Bilbo watched, holding his breath as a figure appeared at the top of the ramp and began to descend. He felt his jaw drop and did not need to look at his companions to know that they probably wore similar expressions.

  
The creature that descended the ramp was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It looked to be a cross between a dog and a bear in the face, but it walked upright like a man and was covered, head to toe, in a thick, light brown hair. It wore a belt across its waist and a black and white metal strip across the chest from right shoulder to left hip. A silver cylinder hung from the belt at its left hip. It was tall, taller than even Gandalf. Bilbo’s eyes were so fixed on the strange creature, watching it duck beneath the metal thing it had just exited, as if to inspect it, that he failed to notice the other person step off the ramp.

  
  “It’s a girl!” Filí mumbled, but loud enough for the Company to hear.

  
  “A girl? Where?” Bilbo tore his gaze from the hairy fellow and looked back to the ramp. It was indeed a human girl. She was tall, probably only a foot or so shorter than Gandalf, but definitely taller than Dwalin, the tallest of the dwarves, and much taller than Bilbo. She was dressed oddly, in beige-colored britches and a tunic of some sort. A long brown robe hung from her body, brushing against the heels of her shiny, light brown boots that were polished to a shine. A flash of light on her hip showed that she had a similar cylinder hanging from her hip as the hairy fellow.

  
But it was her face that drew Bilbo’s gaze, more than anything. She was beautiful, at least Bilbo thought so. Even with a look of irritation on her face, she was pretty. Her hair was a flaming red-gold color and hung down to the middle of her back in a tight braid. It wasn’t ornate and filled with beads like the braids his Dwarven companions wore in their hair and beards. It was simple and understated much like her clothes. A shiny, golden…thing had followed her down the ramp and was standing still, watching as she and her hairy friend bent over and inspected the underside of their flying contraption. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield watched in silence. They could not hear what was being said among the three, but the girl’s irritation seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds, that much was clear.

  
  “Oh no!” they heard her cry out. “Lowie, come take a look at this!”

  
  The hairy fellow hurried over, bent double. She indicated something above her towards the middle underside of the contraption. He let loose a bellow that caused Bilbo to jump and the girl hurried away, but not out of fear. She still looked angry, but now worry creased her brow as well. She hurried back up the ramp and disappeared.

  
  The golden man, for it certainly looked man-like, called out to the hairy creature. “What is the matter, Lowbacca?”

  
  A bellow was his answer.

  
  “Oh dear, oh dear!” the golden man said.

  
  Just then, the girl hurried back down the ramp. “I didn’t find any, Lowie!” she cried. Now there was definitely distress in her voice. Her friend, Lowbacca, howled.

  
  The girl looked around helplessly then an idea seemed to strike her. “I’ll check the forest! We must’ve hit a tree or something!” She shrugged out of her robe and Bilbo saw that her tunic had long sleeves that fell to her wrists. She tossed the robe to the ground, uncaring. “Stay with the ship! I’ll be back!”

  
  “It’s a ship?” Filí said.

  
  “Never seen a ship like that before,” his brother replied.

  
  Bilbo hadn’t either, not that he’d seen many. What kind of ship flew? He was jolted form his thoughts at Thorin’s whispered command to hide. Bilbo looked up. The girl was headed right for them!

  
  She’d barely stepped foot in the forest when she stopped. Lowbacca called out to her. She glanced back at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine!” she called back. “I’m a Jedi! I can take care of myself.” With that, she hurried deeper into the woods and was soon out of sight.

  
  Bilbo looked after her, even more puzzled. What in the name of Arda was a Jedi?

  
  Once she had gone, Thorin stood up from his crouch behind a bush. The Company gathered around him.

  
  “Gandalf, what is this?” Thorin growled. “Who is that girl? And those creatures she’s with? And what is that thing they came in?”

  
  Everyone looked to Gandalf. He must know, surely. He was a Wizard. They knew everything!

  
  “I have no answers for you, Thorin,” Gandalf said, looking more serious than usual. “The girl is clearly a daughter of Man, but as for her companions…,” he trailed off, looking through the trees towards Lowbacca. “I have never seen his like before.” They all followed his gaze and saw the hairy creature and the golden man going back up the ramp and into the ship.

  
  The Company was silent, then Nori started. “Thorin! Dori and Ori are with the ponies! What if the girl comes across them?”

  
  Thorin’s eyes widened. Clearly he’d forgotten. “Dwalin, Kilí, Glóin,” he said. “Go find them. Keep the ponies safe and make sure the girl has not spotted them. The rest of us will move beyond that copse of trees to get out of her way when she returns.” With a nod, the Company split. Bilbo trotted on silent feet beside Gandalf, hoping the girl didn’t spot Dori and Ori and the ponies. He secretly wished, however, that she would return soon.

 

*

  
   Dusk had fallen by the time the girl returned. By then, Lowbacca had left the ship and begun to pace outside, as if eager for her to return. Bilbo spotted the girl’s fiery hair the second she exited the tree line. He felt his companions tense around him. A quick glance showed that Gandalf was watching her particularly closely.

  
   From behind his bush, Bilbo fixed his gaze on the girl. Her clothing was only a little dirty but sweat covered her face. Her red-gold hair, shining like fire in the setting sun’s glow, was sticking to her face and neck. From this angle, Bilbo could see a small, tightly woven braid hanging from just her left ear. He wondered if it had any special significance.

  
   Lowbacca rumbled at her. She shook her head. From a pocket on her belt she pulled a scrap of metal. She tossed it to him without looking and he deftly caught it. Bilbo blinked. “That’s all I could find,” she paused, put a hand to her head. Bilbo could see the beginnings of a nasty bruise above her left temple. When had that happened? The girl looked around toward where the Company was hidden, but then she looked away again, wincing as she massaged her brow. “This world is primitive. Can you not feel it?” she suddenly said.

  
   Lowbacca warbled at her. She nodded. “Yes, as I thought. No significant technological advances of any kind. I came across no one today, so we must assume the population’s either small or tightly bound to major cities, towns, villages, etc. etc.” She sighed and turned to face the Company’s hiding place, this time fully. She lowered herself until she was squatting on her haunches. Her face was now on a level with Bilbo’s. “The terrain is rugged, one might even say treacherous,” she continued. “And yet, if not for this bump on my head, I would have no trouble.” She rubbed at the darkening bruise, wincing once more.

  
   Lowbacca crouched beside her, putting one giant paw on her shoulder. He growled low. The girl shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” was all she said. She didn’t look fine, thought Bilbo. She looked tired and older than her years.  
Lowbacca looked at her a moment, then went into the ship. When he was gone, the girl looked at the bush where Bilbo was hidden behind. A sinking feeling hit him. She stared steadily, eyes flicking around him, as if she could see all the members of the Company hidden there. Tension filled them as the girl simply watched. Could she see them? Did she know, somehow, that they were there?

  
   The sudden return of Lowbacca broke the spell. The girl looked up, saw what he was carrying and tilted her head back in a smile. She rocked back onto her bottom, crossing her legs. “You’re too good to me, Lowie,” she said, still smiling. He threw back his head and made a huffing noise that sounded like a laugh. The girl smiled widely and joined in his laughter. He handed her what he was carrying, something pale purple and soft in appearance, and she took it, placing it to her temple with a sigh. “Oh, yeah,” she said, voice filled with relief. “Much better.”

  
   Lowbacca stood again and set about building a fire. Soon it was roaring and the two of them sat together in companionable silence. Lowbacca pulled something from his belt and handed it across to her. She took it, not lowering the purple thing from her head, and stuffed what he’d given her into her mouth. Lowbacca ate too, after making sure she’d had enough. The sunset faded and night crept in. Eventually the two of them drifted off to sleep.

  
   Once he was sure that they were asleep, Thorin gesture to the others. They crept from their hiding places and towards the fire and Bilbo was finally able to get a good look at the girl for the first time. She was younger than he’d originally thought. Her womanly curves were belied by the youthfulness of her face. He wasn’t a good judge of age in Man, but if he was to guess, he’d say she was in her late teens.

  
   “Bilbo!” Bofur’s whispered call made him turn. The hatted dwarf gestured him over. Thorin and Filí were already creeping up the ramp, weapons drawn.

  
   “Thorin, this is not wise,” Gandalf murmured.

  
   “We do not know who these people are, or what,” Thorin replied, equally low. “Do you really want them running about Middle-Earth? We have not seen the golden man for hours. We must find him and see if there is anyone—or anything—else on board. You and the Hobbit stay here if you wish. The rest of us are going up.” One by one, the dwarves disappeared up the ramp. Gandalf hesitated, then followed.  
Bilbo looked back at the girl and Lowbacca. He was torn. He wanted to stay and watch the girl and her friend, but he also wanted to go onto the ship. Who were these strange people? Where were they from? Why were they here? So many questions! How was he to know them all?

  
    He looked back up at the ramp and started up it, the metal cool beneath his thick soles. He’d barely made it halfway when a hand slapped over his mouth and another grabbed his shoulder. He started, his cry of surprise muffled by the small, slender hand. He looked up into a pair of bright green eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second chapter. I'd like to thank everyone who read the first one, and those who left kudos. Thank you very much! Please feel free to leave a comment if you want to.

Gandalf the Gray was not having a good day. From the moment the sky ship had fallen, a strange feeling had been gnawing at the back of his mind. He felt power from this ship—no from the people within it. Particularly the girl. Lowbacca had power, too, but not to the same extent as the girl. But he could feel that neither was of the Istari. What they were, however, he did not know. And that troubled him. 

 

Everything gleamed aboard the ship, even the dusty and dirty bits. Small lights glowed around them. Piles of things that Gandalf had no words for were scattered around on tables, counters, all of which was bolted to the floor of the ship. Several of the dwarves ran hands along the walls, admiring the strange yet oddly beautiful craftsmanship. Nothing was familiar to Gandalf. He had questions. Many questions. Perhaps Lord Elrond would have the answers he sought? Or even the Lady Galadriel? But the thought of asking if they knew of any sky ships to pass over Middle-Earth left a sour taste in his mouth. The whole thing would seem ridiculous if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. 

 

The dwarves split into groups, but Gandalf stuck with Thorin, Balin and Filí. The four took one corridor, Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur took another. Nori and Oin took the third passage. 

 

The ship was quiet. The golden man was nowhere to be seen, and there were no signs that anyone else was there either. Eventually, the three groups met back up where the corridors converged in what appeared to be a common area of some sort. There were ample seating and more tables, one of which had a checkerboard pattern on it. They all looked at each other. 

 

“What is this?” Nori asked. “Where’s the golden man? I saw him come in here m’self!”

 

“We all did, Nori,” Balin said. 

 

“Then where is he?” Bofur asked. “I don’t like this! We should wake those two out there up and interrogate them!” There were nods from several of the others all of which stopped when Gandalf spoke. 

 

“We will do nothing of the sort,” the wizard snapped, surprising the dwarves. He leaned on his staff, looking very much the old man he appeared to be, and looked each dwarf in the eye. “I do not know what is going on here, or who the girl and her companion are any more than any of you do. But what I do know, what I can feel is that interrogation and intimidation will get us nowhere. I feel it in my heart that these people hold no malice. They are here, perhaps due to circumstances beyond their control. I cannot have been the only one to see how desperate that girl was this morning.” He looked around. Seeing the ashamed looks on their faces, he continued, “I think it would be best if we simply wait until morning, offer our services to them, in whatever way we can. Do you not agree, Bilbo?” The wizard turned, expecting to see the Hobbit at his side. 

 

Finding only Filí, Gandalf looked around. “Where’s our burglar? I could have sworn he was right behind me.”

 

The dwarves and Gandalf scoured the ship, calling softly for the Hobbit, but he didn’t turn up. “Great!” Thorin groused when they met up again. “First we lose the golden man, and now we’ve lost our burglar too!” He shot Gandalf a dirty look, as if it was his fault. The wizard chose to ignore it. 

 

“Perhaps he merely decided to wait outside,” Gandalf suggested. He led the company through the ship and down the ramp back to the makeshift camp. When he stopped dead in his tracks, the Company almost plowed into him. Grumbling in annoyance, the Dwarves fanned out behind him to see what had made him stop. What they saw made them all freeze. 

 

There, on the other side of the fire, close to the trees, was Bilbo. Standing to the side and behind him, one hand firmly on his small shoulder was the girl. She didn’t look friendly for a moment; indeed she looked rather put out. Then she smiled. It was a tight smile, filled with suspicion. 

 

“Hello, there,” she said in friendly tones that were filled with frost. Her tension was palpable in her stance and expression. “Mind telling me just why you’ve been spying on us all day?”

 

Oh, yes. Gandalf was having a very bad day indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was short, so I'll post chapter 3 as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back-tracking a little to show events from Zahra's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Chapter 2 was short, here's chapter three, and it's a bit short too, lol.

She’d had a sense that something wasn’t right the minute she’d exited the ship, but Zahra had been too caught up in the drama of the moment—finding a large chunk of the ship’s underbelly stripped away—to pay the notion any mind. A stupid thing to do, really, but fear, anger and the pain of the bump on her head had clouded her judgment. And yet that was no excuse, she would later tell herself.

 

It was only after she’d stepped foot in the forest that the feeling of being watched had overtaken her. She’d paused so suddenly that Lowbacca had noticed. She’d reassured him and subtly warned whoever was watching that she wasn’t to be trifled with. Then, once she was well enough away that she could not be overheard, she’d activated her com-link, told Lowie to get on the ship if he wasn’t already there, and told him what she’d sensed. He’d wanted her to return immediately, but she’d refused. 

“Act like nothing’s happened. I’ll investigate while I’m looking for pieces of the ship. I’ll get in touch again later.” 

And she had, spending a good amount of time traversing the hills and forests for any sign of the ship’s underbelly, and finding only one small piece. In the process, she’d found five small stout men clumped together with several ponies. Perhaps she could have searched longer, but she was growing weary. A quick nap up in a tree had revitalized her enough to confront the men. 

Stepping from the forest, too pissed to beat about the bush, she’d surprised them. 

 

“Hi,” she’d said. The men had, predictably, surged to their feet, weapons drawn. Weapons of metal. A primitive world, then. She’d figured. One even had a slingshot. Zahra had arched an eyebrow. “Really, fellas? That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

 

The bald man charged her, axes raised. She’d sighed. So be it. Tapping into the Force, she pushed him back with one wave of a hand and pulled his axes towards her with the other. He’d fallen on his rear, his axes dropping by her feet. With another “come” gesture, the rest of their weapons flew at her, falling to the ground once she released them. 

 

The five men stood, dumbstruck, gaping at her.

 

“All too easy,” she said with a smug smile.

 

“What d’you want lassie?” the bald man asked getting to his feet. A fierce glower painted his face, perhaps in an effort to intimidate her. No luck. She’d faced far worse than him. 

 

She’d smiled. What indeed. 

 

A few minutes later, she’d had the five men tied up with their own rope. They glared, threatened, and cursed her but she’d only shrugged. 

 

“Look on the bright side,” she’d said. They stopped their grumbles and struggles long enough to look up at her. “I could have killed you.” That shut them up for good. “I—or my friend—will be back later to fetch you. I need to go deal with your other friends. Don’t worry,” she’d held up her hands in a placating manner when the youngest man opened his mouth to object. “I won’t kill them. I’m not like that. But I will get answers.” With a smart-assed wave she’d left them there and headed back.

 

Along the way she’d activated her com-link and filled Lowbacca in on what had happened and told him of her plan. He, of course, had had reservations, but had eventually come to agree. That was what she liked best about her Wookiee friend: no matter how absurd or dangerous her plans were, he always backed her up. After all, he’d followed her this far, hadn’t he?

 

As soon as she’d returned, they’d begun to enact the plan. Her observations about the primitive nature of the planet had been true, but also cold enough to aggravate their spies. She was now keenly aware of their presence. She deduced there were ten of them. She’d even gone so far as to stare at their hiding place, hoping to set them off balance. There was one among them, she sensed, with more than a little bit of power. Whether it was Force-related or not, it was hard for her to tell. 

 

And then, she and Lowbacca had “fallen asleep”. The spies had come out of hiding, and gone into the ship. All save one. He was indecisive, unsure, but then he’d finally started up the ramp. But they could no longer wait. She’d grabbed the tiny man, even smaller than the five she’d encountered in the woods. He’d looked up at her with surprise and fear. 

 

“Stay silent,” she’d said. She’d released his mouth, but kept the hand on his shoulder firmly clamped, and led him down the ramp again. “Lowie, go get the others. Be careful.” Lowbacca had nodded and headed off. Zahra had looked down at the tiny man, taking note of his large hairy feet and lightly pointed ears. She’d never seen his like before. “Don’t be afraid, I mean you no harm. Do you understand?”

 

He’d nodded but still looked wary.

 

She’d moved them around to the other side of the fire and waited, one hand still resting lightly on his shoulder. 

 

Finally, his companions had descended. They’d stopped dead in their tracks when they saw her with their friend. Well, well. Eight men the size of those in the woods, and one who was, to her, “normal-sized”. He looked human, but the power radiating from him told her not to be deceived. She reached out with the Force, and sensed his connection to it was strong, but not as strong as Master Skywalker. Was this man an undiscovered Force user, then? Perhaps, perhaps not. 

 

“Hello, there,” she’d said, going for friendly, but her smile was brittle, her eyes tight. “Mind telling me just why you’ve been spying on us all day?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra and Thorin don't get off to a good start, Gandalf tries to mend fences and Bilbo is enamored with the young Jedi. (My summaries suck, I know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Chapter 4, because 3 was also short. :)

Bilbo’s heart was thundering in his chest as his friends slowly drew weapons. The girl’s grip on his shoulder didn’t change, remaining loose but firm, holding him still but not preventing him from moving either. She remained calm beside him. Too calm. Which meant his friends didn’t stand a chance against her. Bilbo knew Gandalf could sense this too, for he held up a hand to stop the dwarves from doing something that could possibly get them all killed. 

 

“We mean you no harm, my dear,” Gandalf said.

 

“Oh?” she replied, arching one fine red-gold eyebrow. “Is that what you call spying on me and my friend? Not meaning any harm? Perhaps you didn’t, but I don’t recall you offering any help either.”

 

She had a point. Bilbo knew it. Gandalf knew it. The dwarves, exchanging furtive, guilty looks, knew it too. The tension in the air grew even thicker. 

 

Gandalf gave a nervous laugh. “Well, we all make mistakes,” he said, putting a hand on his hip. He smiled at the girl. “Let’s start over, shall we? Introductions, I believe, are in order. I am Gandalf the Gray. The little fellow beside you is Mr. Bilbo Baggins. These fine fellows with me are the dwarves of Erebor,” and he proceeded to name them, ending with, “and the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Each dwarf bowed at his name, offering their service as they had to Bilbo only a couple of weeks prior on his doorstep. Thorin gave only the barest of imperious nods. “And who might you be, my dear?”

 

Bilbo looked up at her. Her green eyes were narrowed, cautiously flicking from one dwarf to the next. She glanced down at Bilbo, held his gaze for a moment, before looking back up at Gandalf. Lifting her chin ever-so slightly, she said, “My name is Zahra Rivers.” 

 

Bilbo let out a heavy breath, feeling the tension leave his shoulders. Zahra Rivers. It was a pretty, if unusual name. He mulled it over in his mind, wanting to say it aloud to see how it would sound on his tongue, but refrained. 

 

“Zahra Rivers,” Gandalf repeated. “An extraordinary name, my dear. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard the like before.”

 

The girl jerked her chin to the ship behind them. “I’m not exactly from around here, you know.” Her smile was rueful. 

 

Gandalf smiled in return. “No, indeed,” he murmured. 

 

“Where are you from, if I may ask?” Thorin asked haughtily, crossing his thick arms. 

 

“You may,” Zahra said, finally releasing Bilbo’s shoulder. He could leave her side now if he chose. He didn’t. Zahra crossed her arms in a perfect imitation of Thorin, lifting her chin even more so that she was staring down at him. To Bilbo’s amazement and everyone else’s amusement (save Thorin’s, of course) she didn’t answer the exiled king’s question. 

 

Thorin, ever impatient, growled, “Well?” through clenched teeth.

 

Zahra stiffened slightly. With a haughtiness to rival Thorin’s, she said, “Well, I didn’t say I would answer, did I?”

 

The clearing was suddenly filled with the choked sounds of seven dwarves, a wizard and a Hobbit trying to smother their laughter. They didn’t really succeed. Thorin narrowed his eyes even further on the girl. She arched an eyebrow in return. When his hand twitched to the hilt of his sword her demeanor shifted. She dropped her arms, squared her shoulders, standing tall and proud and menacing. Her determined gaze met Thorin’s angry one. 

 

“Go ahead and pull that sword,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see how far you get.” 

 

The tension which had been abating ratcheted up once more. Bilbo fought the shiver that wanted to race down his spine. He swallowed instead, glancing between Zahra and Thorin, wondering what would happen next. 

 

What happened was that Gandalf intervened once more. “Now, now, let’s not start this again. Thorin, release your weapon,” he hissed to the dwarf king. Then to the girl he said, “My dear Zahra, believe me, we mean you no harm.” His smile was kind, but his eyes were wary. 

 

Zahra tore her gaze from Thorin’s and looked at Gandalf. Suddenly, she whipped around, striding away to the edge of the clearing and standing there with head bowed. At the edge of the firelight, it was hard to determine what she was doing. To Bilbo, she appeared to be breathing. Her shoulders heaved for several seconds, before they slowed and returned to a normal breathing pattern. From the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw Gandalf cast Thorin a warning glare, then turned it on each of the dwarves. They shifted under his stare, uncomfortable. Bilbo and the others returned their attention to the girl. Time seemed to stretch as they watched her until, finally, her head straightened and the lines of tension in her back eased. 

 

She turned, the firelight flashing on the silver cylindrical object hanging from her belt. Her face was perfectly blank, a void of emotion. She nodded to Gandalf as she walked to rejoin them by the fire. “I believe you.”

 

He looked confused. 

 

She clarified. “That you mean no harm. I believe you.” 

 

“Ah. Ah! Good, good. Excellent. Isn’t that excellent, Thorin?” The wizard nudged Thorin’s side with the tip of his staff. 

 

"Excellent,” Thorin said, making it sound as if it was anything but excellent. His blue eyes were ever watchful, never straying far from the girl’s face. He was scowling up at her. Of course, Bilbo reasoned, he was always scowling, so it didn’t make much difference. 

 

Zahra spared him a brief glance, before surveying the others. “I suppose you have questions for me,” she said. “I shall do my best to answer them. Though keep in mind that I may not have all the answers.”

 

“Where did you come from?” Nori blurted. 

 

“How does your ship fly?” Filí asked. 

 

“Where’s your hairy friend? And the golden man?” Bofur demanded to know. 

 

“What’s a Jedi?” Bilbo wondered aloud.

 

“That’s what I would like to know, too,” Gandalf said. Bilbo wondered what question he was referring to. Personally, Bilbo wanted to know everything the girl had to offer.

 

The others grew quiet, all eyes trained on Zahra Rivers. She sighed and rubbed at her left temple, wincing slightly. “Let’s sit down first. And give me a moment. I need to organize my thoughts.” 

 

They all sat in a loose circle around the fire. Bilbo hastily claimed a spot to her right and Gandalf settled on a rock to her left. The others spread themselves out and, Bilbo noticed, Thorin placed himself directly across the fire from Zahra, as far as he could get. 

 

“A Jedi is what I am,” she started. 

 

“But you’re human,” Bilbo said, confused. 

 

She nodded. “That is my species. I am human. But I’m also a Jedi. Think of it like my job. It’s what I do and also what I am too, in a sense. I’m a human, but also a Jedi. Like,” she lifted her head in thought, “an elite warrior, I guess. Make sense?” Nods everywhere. Satisfied that they understood, she surged ahead. “My ship flies because it was built to. I’m not sure of the hows or whys. Mechanics have always been a little above my head. I can fly it, which is all that really matters. My hairy friend, as you called him, can fix it. The golden man, C-3PO, is a droid, a mechanical man. He’s not really alive, and right now he’s been…put away. Lowbacca has gone to fetch your friends, the ones in the forest. It’s okay!” she exclaimed, holding up her hands to stem the flow of vitriol that was sure to have been unleashed on her, “I haven’t harmed them. They’re just, er, a little tied up at the moment.” There were glances and grumbles exchanged among the dwarves, but Gandalf looked like he was fighting a laugh. He’d pulled out his pipe and stuffed it with Longbottom Leaf. With a flick of his wrist, he lit it and started puffing away. 

 

“As for where I’m from,” Zahra finished, causing everyone to grow quiet and watch her attentively. Bilbo saw both Thorin and Filí lean closer to the fire, almost singing their beards and long hair. Zahra looked up at the night sky. The moon, not quite full, shone down with silvery light, the stars blinking through the black of a cloudless sky. Her voice took on a strange quality, quiet, sad and wistful all at once. “It’s so far away,” she said softly, almost to herself, like she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “My home. My friends. So far away.”

 

Bilbo and Gandalf exchanged worried looks. What could she mean?

 

A long moment passed, then Zahra blinked, looking around at them all, an almost startled expression on her face. She’d definitely forgotten they were there, Bilbo thought. “As hard as it may be to imagine, this is the truth. I came from up there. From the stars.” She pointed up as if they needed a reference. “From the stars and the spaces between them. From worlds so different from yours, you’d think they were fantasies. You can’t even imagine the beauty and the horror beyond this little world of yours. Our ship came through a portal in the places beyond your world, probably a wormhole. We crashed here. Now we need to fix our ship, if we can, so we can go home.” She met each astonished look around her. “You asked,” she said with a shrug. She picked up a stray stick and began to poke at the ground in front of her.

 

Silence stretched around them once more. Bilbo didn’t know what to think at first. He didn’t know what his companions were feeling or thinking, but as second after second ticked by, he came to his own conclusion about Zahra Rivers’ tale. All he knew was what was in his heart. So he reached out one small hand and placed it on her knee. Meeting her gaze he said exactly what he was feeling because it was the truth. “I believe you,” he said. 

 

She looked startled for a moment, but then, she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write. Zahra surprised me with how sassy she is and will be. I hope you all enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra tells the Company about her problem and Balin has a solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was only planning on posting one chapter every Saturday, but since the Holidays are closing in, I don't think I'll be able to post any for a while after today. I probably won't be able to update this story until sometime in January, so I'm planning on going on a posting spree (of like two or three chapters) today since this story is pretty much finished. 
> 
> I have no beta other than myself, so any mistakes are my own.

There was something strange about these people. Not a bad kind of strange, just strange. The light side of the Force permeated them. She felt it most especially in Gandalf, of course, but in all of them there was a bright spark. Even the ones Lowbacca brought back. He’d paused just outside the light of the fire, giving the new dwarves the chance to listen to her tale. None of the others had noticed them, but Zahra had. 

 

Bilbo removed his hand from her knee and she turned to look into the fire’s depths. “Are you going to stand there all night, or will you bring the others to meet me properly?” she called out, making the others jump.   
Lowbacca’s answering warble made her grin. Lowie stepped from the shadows, pulling the dwarves along by a rope. At once the rest of them surged to their feet, pulling weapons again, but Zahra remained sitting. “Oh, come on,” she said. “They look hurt to you?” She leaned around Bilbo and glanced at the new arrivals, the bald one looking particularly murderous. With a smile she asked, “You guys hurt at all?”

 

“No,” the young dark-haired one said. He smiled back at her and even winked. He was a flirt, Zahra could see. He reminded her of a friend back home. Several friends, really. 

 

“Let them loose Lowie, and give them back their weapons,” Zahra said. 

 

With a dark grumble, he untied them and pulled their weapons from his satchel. The bald one, introduced as Dwalin, grabbed his double axes from him and shot Zahra another angry look. She smiled broadly in return. 

 

“Now, then,” Gandalf said, once introductions were made again and all were settled around the fire. Lowbacca opted to sit on the ship’s ramp, staring at the others. He was becoming more and more like his uncle Chewbacca every day, Zahra thought. Chewie, from the stories she’d heard, had been very vigilant also. Gandalf continued to puff at his pipe. “Let’s all settle down and we can get to the business of helping these people.”

 

“Help us?” Zahra asked. 

 

Gandalf nodded, “If we can and it is within our power.”

 

Zahra smiled, leaning back on her hands. “I knew I liked you,” she said.

 

Gandalf nodded back, eyes twinkling. He went into further detail about the species—or, as he called them, races—of this land, which was called Middle-Earth. There were humans (Men), elves, dwarves, orcs, goblins, trolls, hobbits, dragons, and wizards. Gandalf said he was a wizard. Zahra exchanged a look with Lowie over the heads of the dwarves. Jedi were sometimes called wizards by other species. Did this mean Gandalf was a Jedi? He had the Force, it was true, but he was unlike any other Force user that Zahra had ever met. 

 

In return, Zahra explained that Lowbacca was a Wookiee. None of them had ever seen one before, which was hardly surprising given the lack of technology on the planet, and also played upon her rising theory that they had indeed gone through a wormhole. She rumbled to Lowie in his own native tongue, surprising everyone. Gandalf merely looked on placidly. Lowbacca nodded, albeit reluctantly, and stood, going up into the ship, leaving her very much alone with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard. 

 

“What exactly does your ship require to make it fly again?” Balin asked. 

 

“Part of the underbelly was ripped away,” she said. “None of the inside components were damaged, thankfully, other than the hyper-drive, but that’s always going out, and easily fixed. And the engines are out, and that may take a while to fix. What we need is something to cover the ships innards so they don’t heat up and burn away as we leave the atmosphere or when we jump to light speed, whichever. The material must be strong, and resistant to extreme heat or cold.” 

 

Everyone blinked at her. “Say what now, lass?” Bofur asked. “I’m afraid you may have lost us a bit.”

 

“At which part?”

 

“Um, all of it?” Bofur said. 

 

Her eyebrows twitched and then she burst out laughing, once again startling them. She laughed long and hard, leaning forward and clutching her stomach. Wiping tears from her eyes, she said, “Sorry. I forgot. You guys have no idea what I’m talking about. Sorry.” She continued to chuckle, but then Balin spoke. 

 

“If you need something strong enough to withstand both heat and cold, I have an idea,” he said. 

 

“Oh? What?” Zahra asked. She looked up, her mirth faded down to a small smile, her eyes serious. 

 

“Well, two things come to mind,” Balin said, stroking his long, forked beard. “Either Mithril, or dragon scales.”

 

The air seemed to get sucked out of everyone. Thorin was frowning more heavily than ever. He snapped something at Balin in a language Zahra didn’t know, but assumed it was their mother-tongue. Balin replied, then his brother, Dwalin interjected. 

 

“What?” Zahra asked, impatient at being left out of the conversation on purpose. 

 

“Mithril is a precious and priceless commodity to our people,” Balin said. “There isn’t much of it, you see, and what little there is, is locked away in Erebor, our home, far to the east, sitting beneath the feet of a giant fire-breathing dragon. He’s where’d you get the scales from, of course.”

 

“I see,” Zahra said. “And how far away is Erebor?” 

 

The dwarves looked at her in surprise. “You’d be willing to go there, lassie?” Bofur asked. 

 

Zahra shrugged. “I can’t leave your world without fixing my ship and if this Mithril stuff and/or dragon scales are my only options, what choice do I have? How far is it?”

 

“Several weeks journey east,” Gandalf said. “You’d be on the road with us for some time. That is, if you decide to go.”

 

“Like I said, I don’t have a choice. I’ll go. If Thorin doesn’t mind.”

 

All eyes flew to the exiled King Under the Mountain. “How old are you, girl?”

 

“Sixteen,” she answered promptly. Exclamations and sounds of protest began. “I’m a Jedi, remember? An elite warrior? I can handle myself.” 

 

Thorin sighed heavily, exchanging looks with Balin, Dwalin, and his nephews, Filí and Kilí. The latter two looked at him beseechingly and he sighed.“I don’t really like the idea of a sixteen year old girl joining our quest, but if you can keep up and do your fair share, I don’t really see the problem.” He looked down at his hands to avoid her triumphant smirk. 

 

“Then it’s settled. We’ll leave at first light,” Gandalf said instantly before Thorin could change his mind. “I suggest we get some rest while we can. Where are the ponies?”

 

“Tied up in the trees,” Zahra said.”I made sure Lowie brought them.”

 

“Good! Then off to bed everyone!” Gandalf said, settling himself against a tree. 

 

Everyone laid out their bedrolls and Zahra went into the ship where she encountered Lowie, Threepio and Artoo. She told them of her plans to travel with the dwarves to find something to cover the damn hole on the bottom of the ship. Lowie, of course, didn’t like the idea of her going off with veritable strangers, but she assured him she’d be fine. “What have you discovered?” she asked. 

 

He growled, bringing up the data on the small computer screen. “So it is a wormhole,” she said. “As I thought. Stable?” Lowie shrugged. “Well, keep an eye on it. I’ll be gone for some time. If only the engines were working, we could pack everyone on here and fly across the land to this Erebor place, but beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.” She patted Lowie’s shoulder and went to pack a small bag. She put in a couple of fresh changes of clothes, some food packets and water skins, as well as some bacta pills for wounds, as well as some other miscellaneous things. She went back outside and curled up by the fire to sleep, but none was forthcoming. So, instead, she did what every Jedi did when sleep was their enemy. 

She meditated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins and Zahra and Thorin don't get off to a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the movie stuff starts, actions and dialogue. I hope I've integrated Zahra into it well enough. Enjoy!

Bilbo woke the next morning when the sun was still down. He hadn’t gotten much sleep; none of them would, but he couldn’t sleep anymore. He sat up, rubbing the sand from his eyes and looked around, blinking blearily. Gandalf was still leaning against his tree, head bowed in slumber. The other dwarves were all still sleeping. Lowbacca was standing off to one side, facing east. He seemed to be watching something. Bilbo, silently, got to his feet and padded over to see what had grabbed the Wookiee’s attention. What he saw nearly bowled him over.

 

On a large boulder, nearly double the size of a man, was Zahra. She wasn’t sitting or standing, or doing anything normal that one would expect. She was, instead, balancing, with seeming ease, on her left hand, palm flat on the rock. Her body was extended straight upwards, her left leg in line with her left arm, both her right arm and leg angled slightly away from her body, giving the impression of a ‘k’ shape. Bilbo felt his jaw drop in shock. What in Yavanna’s name was she doing?

 

Time stretched on, the sun began to lift, chasing the way the moon and stars, and the dwarves and Gandalf began to rise behind him. By now, Bilbo was sitting, arms wrapped around his legs, watching Zahra. She hadn’t moved an inch, showing no signs of fatigue. The others approached and he heard a few gasps and murmurs of bewilderment from the others. 

 

“How long has she been like that?” Kilí asked. 

 

Bilbo shrugged. “I got up about an hour ago,” he said. “She was like this then, too.”

 

As the sun began to climb over the horizon, its rays shot out and touched Zahra, turning her red-gold hair to fire. That seemed to be the moment she’d been waiting for. Her right arm and leg began to draw close to her body. Her legs lined up side by side, and her other arm joined its twin, resting on the boulder’s top. She began to fold in on herself, her legs bending, heels touching her bottom. Her arms bent at the elbows just a bit and her spine began to curve. Her feet touched the boulder’s surface and for a moment she paused, just breathing. For several long moments she crouched there as the blood that had journeyed to her head flowed back down to the rest of her body. Finally, she stood, turning her head, eyes closed, to face the sun. Her breathing slowed, becoming even and when she finally opened her eyes, it was to shield them from the sun’s glare. She turned away and blinked to see her audience. She jumped lightly down from the boulder with no effort, landing easily on bent legs. 

 

“What?” she asked, hands on hips. 

 

“What were you doing?” Kilí asked eagerly. 

 

She smiled a little. “Meditating.” 

 

“How long were you like that?” Bombur asked. The heavy dwarf seemed particularly impressed by her show of physical discipline. 

 

She looked away. “While you all were sleeping,” she said. 

 

“The whole time?” Dwalin sounded flabbergasted. 

 

“Yes,” she said, looking at the bald dwarf. “I couldn’t sleep. Too much to think about.” 

 

She moved past them all and up into the ship. As they began to eat, she returned, a fresh tunic on, and her hair looked wet. She wove it into a long, tight braid down her back and then shrugged on her robe, the one she’d discarded so carelessly the day before. Her pack was slung over her shoulders and she snacked on something pale, like a cracker, while she waited. She was speaking quietly with Lowbacca by the ship’s ramp, eyes moving over the Company. 

 

Gandalf approached her. “My dear, if it’s all the same to you, I think you should ride with me. I doubt any of the ponies would be able to carry both you and the dwarves. They might be small but they are heavy, like the stone they’re forebears were hewn from.”

 

“I will, if that’s okay with you,” Zahra said, but then Bilbo spoke up.

 

“She can ride with me,” he said, then flushed a little when all conversation ceased and all eyes turned to him. He especially didn’t like the knowing smirks exchanged between Filí and Kilí. “I’m lighter than the dwarves, and I don’t think Myrtle would mind an extra rider.”

 

Gandalf looked at Zahra. “Would that be agreeable to you my dear?”

 

Zahra smiled and Bilbo felt a funny feeling in his chest and stomach. “If Bilbo thinks it’ll be alright, then I’m okay with it. Thank you, Bilbo.”

 

“Y-You’re welcome!” he stammered then shoved the rest of his apple into his mouth. He found he quite liked the way she said his name. 

 

When Thorin announced it was time to go, the dwarves and Gandalf mounted up and waited while Zahra hugged Lowbacca good-bye. The sadness on her face was clear to see, and they all felt a little sorry for her. The Wookiee gave a mournful, low howl and picked her up in a hug, her feet dangling at least three feet off the ground. He set her down and gave her such a mighty pat on her shoulder in farewell that she stumbled forward, giving him a dark look that quickly turned to a smile and several of the dwarves chuckled. She walked over to Bilbo and helped him into the saddle, lifting him easily as if he weighed lighter than a feather. It was a little embarrassing for him, but at the same time, he didn’t object. Filí and Kilí, and now Bofur and Nori, were smirking at him, watching his face enflame. Zahra swung up behind him, taking the reins and expertly swinging Myrtle around to face the direction Thorin was. The exiled king narrowed his eyes slightly before calling for them to move out. 

 

*

 

For the next several days they traveled and it was an interesting experience. Every night at camp, Thorin would strut about imperiously doling out orders and, on more than one occasion, he and Zahra would butt heads. Not in a literal sense, since Bilbo figured that Thorin’s thick skull would break the girl’s head, but they certainly argued a great deal. Despite Thorin’s agreeing to her joining them on the quest, he clearly didn’t like the fact that a woman, let alone a sixteen year old, was with them. They argued over the most senseless of things. 

 

“You don’t build a fire like that! Gloin, you do it!” Thorin said at one point. 

 

Zahra had relinquished the task to the red-headed dwarf readily, but then she’d rounded on Thorin with a fury, standing over him. “If you didn’t want me to do it, you shouldn’t have told me to!” she said. 

 

“It’s not my fault you can’t build a proper fire!” he replied heatedly. 

 

“And it’s not my fault you’re a pompous ass!” she shouted.

 

Several grunts of laughter were heard; even Dwalin, who usually took offense to anyone insulting his king had to smother his laugh before saying, “You don’t speak that way to the king, lassie!”

 

“He’s not my king,” Zahra had shot back, glaring daggers at Thorin. 

 

Another night, they simply glared with barely concealed hatred at each other across the fire as Bombur doled out stew. Everyone could feel the tension; the air practically crackled with it. The conversation that night was tense and relegated to talking about small, inconsequential things. 

 

“Lovely weather tonight,” Dori said. 

 

“Indeed, it is nice,” Ori agreed, a little too hastily. 

 

“Don’t think it’ll be raining anytime soon,” Nori added.

 

“Unless you count the thunderbolts coming out of Thorin’s ass,” Zahra said.

 

Thorin shot to his feet, face red. “You insolent little girl!”

 

She got to her feet and they began to shout obscenities at one another, leaving the others to sigh and eat their stew. 

 

After a week of this, everyone was tired. When Thorin called a halt one day by the remains of a charred out house, Bilbo let Zahra help him from the pony without comment. He was used to this minor indignity by now and no longer flushed in embarrassment. 

 

She left him and wandered over to where Thorin and Gandalf were. Bilbo caught the words, “A farmer and his family used to live here,” from Gandalf and looked over with interest. Zahra looked tense. 

 

“I don’t like it here,” she said, causing everyone to look at her curiously. Her eyes were narrowed and darting around their surroundings rapidly.

 

“I agree,” Gandalf said, “I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley.”

 

But Thorin protested.”I have told you already, I will not go to that place!” Zahra, Bilbo saw, was glaring at the dwarf king again. 

 

“Why not?” Gandalf asked. “The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice.” He followed Thorin, who walked into the remains of the house. Zahra followed after, standing close enough to listen, but with enough distance that she wasn’t actively a part of the conversation. However, Bilbo could see that she was making her disapproval of Thorin clear, from her hands-on-hips stance.

 

“I do not need their advice,” the dwarf king spat.

 

“We have a map we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us,” Gandalf argued gently.

 

“Help?” The very idea seemed to offend Thorin. “A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls. The Elves looked on and did nothing.” He stepped closer to the Wizard, lowering his voice, but everyone could still plainly hear, even if they were pretending not to.”And you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather. Who betrayed my father.”

 

“You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past!” Gandalf exclaimed in exasperation. 

 

“I did not know that they were yours to keep!” Thorin growled. 

 

That seemed to be the last straw, and the wizard turned on his heel and strode past them all. 

 

“Everything all right? Gandalf, where are you going?” Bilbo called out. 

 

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense!" the wizard called back. 

 

“And who’s that?” Bilbo asked, honestly curious. 

 

“Myself, Mr. Baggins!” Gandalf said and disappeared down the slope. “I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.”

 

“Come on, Bombur, we’re hungry!” Thorin said, unconcerned with the wizard’s departure.

 

“Is he coming back?” Bilbo asked Balin, who only shrugged and shook his head. 

 

Zahra, who’d been staring after the wizard with a contemplative expression, suddenly rounded on Thorin. “You great big idiot!” she shot at him. “He’s trying to help you and yet you spurn him! For what purpose?”

 

“I hardly think it is any of your concern, girl,” Thorin shot back. He swept a glare around at the Company and they immediately got to their tasks. 

 

But Zahra wasn’t finished with him. “You are an idiot, you know that?” she said. 

 

“As you keep reminding me,” Thorin growled. 

 

“Because apparently you need reminding. You are so determined to do this all on your own, aren’t you, taking help from no one. Is that how it is?”

 

“That’s how it is.”

 

“And yet you have a wizard and a hobbit in your Company.” 

 

Thorin blinked. Bilbo noticed she didn’t include herself in her count. 

 

“You are just a bully, playing at being a king. You have no right to whatever crown awaits you in that mountain.”

 

A hush fell over the Company and several looked positively panicked now, awaiting Thorin’s reaction. He merely turned his back on her, staring out over the slope’s edge. 

 

Zahra shook her head. “Fine. Be an idiot. You are a fool, Thorin Oakenshield. Stay here, then, in the shadow of a home that no longer offers refuge. I warned you about this place, and so did Gandalf, but you refuse to listen to reason. I’ll have nothing to do with you now,” she said and headed off after Gandalf, swinging her pack across her back again. 

 

“Wait, where are you going?” Bilbo asked. Everyone had started after her (except Thorin), but froze when she spun back around. 

 

“Gandalf mentioned Elves, yeah?” she said, looking at each of them. “Maybe they can help me.”

 

“Thorin promised you aide, lass,” Balin said. None of them wanted her to leave, having grown used to her presence and her heated arguments with Thorin that created much of their nightly entertainment. 

 

Zahra scoffed then offered them a sad smile. “I would not believe the promises of Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, even if my life depended on it. And, for the record, fellas, it does. Good-bye.” She turned and headed down the slope leaving twelve stunned dwarves and one sad hobbit in her wake.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra and Gandalf have a chat, and then she goes to Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for today. Like I said, I'm not sure when I'll post more, but rest assured, I will not abandon it.

“Gandalf!” Zahra called out. She ran to the wizard who was propped up on another rock, smoking profusely from his pipe, an irritated look on his face that lightened when he turned to see her. 

 

“Zahra!” he exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I had a fight with Thorin and left,” she explained. 

 

“Another fight? My dear, you have those every night, what was different about this one?”

 

She looked at him and he knew. “Ah, I see. Well, that’s that then. What do you plan to do now?”

 

“I was hoping you could tell me where the Elves are. I might ask them for help.”

 

Gandalf’s eyes sparked. “I think that’s a fine idea. In fact, here,” he said. He picked up a rock and used the tip of a nail at the bottom of his staff to scratch something onto its surface. “My mark. Give it to the Elves, and they’ll know you mean them no ill-will. It will get you in to see Lord Elrond.”

 

“Lord Elrond? Is he their leader?”

 

“He is in Rivendell,” Gandalf said. He quickly explained that there were three Elven strongholds in Middle-Earth: Rivendell, Lothlorién, and Mirkwood. “Lord Elrond is kind and wise and he will help you, if he can.”  
Zahra took the rock and tucked it into her pack. “Thank you, Gandalf. I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but Thorin….” She frowned down at the ground. 

 

“Believe me, dear, I understand. Dwarves are hard-headed, and not always easy to get along with, although you were doing well with everyone else. Thorin is just proud. He was hurt, you see, long ago, and when his people needed help the most, he was spurned again and again. It was left to him to provide for an exiled people without a home. He doesn’t trust easily, or readily. And he especially doesn’t like Elves.”

 

Zahra sat beside the wizard. “Sounds like me,” she said. 

 

“Hmm?” the wizard hummed, his eyes shrewd. 

 

She looked at him then glanced away. “Nothing,” she said. They sat there, side-by-side, for several long minutes, the only sound that of the crickets and the low whistle of the wind as it brushed past them, catching at stray wisps of hair and beard and their robes. “Tell me where the Elves are.”

 

So he did. He told her of the secret passage, and she listened, committing the directions to memory. 

 

“You’ll know it’s the right place when you feel it,” he added. 

 

She didn’t ask what he meant, already knowing. They hadn’t discussed what they sensed with each other. She didn’t know how to broach the subject of the Force with the wizard. She didn’t think he was a Jedi. No, she knew it, in her heart. He was something else. 

 

“Will you go back?” she asked him. 

 

“Of course,” he said. To him there was no question. He would go back to the Company, simple as that. 

 

“Tell the others I’m sorry. Especially Bilbo. He’s a fine little fellow,” she said and got to her feet. “Good-bye Gandalf.” With one last smile, she started off towards Rivendell. 

 

She didn’t hear his mumbled response. “Good-bye, Zahra Rivers. Until our next meeting.” He puffed once more on his pipe, and then knocked the tobacco out. Stuffing the empty pipe into his robes he started back for the Company. 

 

Zahra traveled with swift Jedi speed for several hours, across rugged and rocky terrain until she felt it. The pull of the light side of the Force. She paused, panting just slightly. She never used Force speed unless she had to, and right not she was feeling pretty desperate. Each passing hour, each passing day, she felt time slipping through her fingers. She needed to get off this planet and find her master. 

 

Turning in a slow circle, eyes scanning the landscape she saw her destination: a large rock jutting from the ground and, as she went over to it, she saw that a hole was concealed, the entrance to an underground cavern. Zahra smiled. It was just as Gandalf had said. The path had been concealed, but she had found it. 

 

She took one glance over her shoulder and then jumped over the lip of the rock and slid into the path below. On her feet, she followed the path, the light dim. Night had begun to fall, and she found herself thinking back to the Company that she’d left behind. Her steps slowed as she walked and a feeling of trepidation began to fill her. Had she really done the right thing by leaving? Yes, she and Thorin were at each other’s throats more often than not, but did that really constitute leaving? She was a Jedi! She should be above such pettiness. Yes the dwarf was pig-headed with a brain fit for bantha fodder, but he was a king. Not her king, but still. Ugh, she hated politicians. 

 

And the others…was she doing them a disservice by leaving? She hadn’t pledged herself to their cause or quest; she wasn’t even completely sure what they were after. (She’d picked up on a few hints, especially earlier. A dragon and a hall of gold, and apparently the Elves had done nothing to help.) But she’d said she’d go with them to Erebor. And then there was Bilbo. The little hobbit didn’t deserve the derision he received from Thorin and a few of the others, though most of the dwarves were decent to him. He clearly wasn’t a warrior, but so what? She hadn’t been a warrior when she’d joined the Jedi Order. She’d had to learn, through years and years of training, first at the Jedi Academy and then under Master Danai’s tutelage. 

 

Master….

 

A light ahead pulled Zahra from the downward turn of her thoughts. She stepped from the path and her breath caught. She’d never seen anything more beautiful or peaceful. The sight reminded her of her father’s mountain estate on her home planet, but much lighter, more peaceful and filled with an almost unnatural light that could not be placed. The stars began to twinkle above. She had no words to describe the city before her. It was at once a part of the natural world as it was separate. And it was filled with the Force. The growing tension in her had eased at its sight and, after a long moment of drinking in the beauty, she followed the path down the cliff face and to the arching stone bridge. She moved across it with ease, mindful of the waterfalls misting spray. 

 

She passed two statues, tall and graceful looking, and into a round courtyard with no walls. She looked around, taking in the architecture of the place, the sweeping arcs and the way the city seemed to be carved from the cliff-face itself, enjoying the feeling of the Force that permeated the surroundings. 

 

She sensed a presence and turned. A tall, beautiful (there was no other word for him) man, with long dark hair, pointed ears, and wearing robes of deep midnight and gray starlight, had appeared at the top of the stairs leading into the city. He gave her a curious look, but smiled in greeting. He was flanked by two guards on either side.

 

“Welcome,” he said, his voice like music. “I am Lindir, and I welcome you to Rivendell.” He descended the stairs and paused before her.

 

“I’m Zahra Rivers,” she said. “Oh! Hold on.” She pulled her pack around and pulled out the stone Gandalf had etched his sigil into. As soon as she held it out, it glowed. Lindir’s eyes widened. “Gandalf the Gray sent me. He said I could speak to Lord Elrond with this.”

 

“Lindir? What’s going on?” a voice said from above. 

 

Zahra and Lindir looked up to see two men who could only be twins standing side by side above. 

 

“A friend of Mithrandir’s is here to see your father, milord,” Lindir replied. He held up the stone so they could see. The two men joined them. Their darker than black hair and deep brown eyes combined with moon-white skin made them beautiful and almost ethereal. 

 

One of them bowed. “I am Elladan and this is my brother, Elrohir,” he said. His brother bowed in greeting. 

 

“I’m Zahra Rivers,” she said again. “Gandalf said I could speak to your father; that he might be able to help me.”

 

“I’m afraid our father is not here at the moment,” Elladan said, looking sorry. 

 

“Not here?” Zahra repeated. “Where is he?”

 

“He is leading a party of our people to track a group of orcs,” Elrohir said. 

 

“Orcs? What are they?” Zahra asked, but a sick feeling had entered her stomach. 

 

“Creatures of darkness,” Elrohir said. “Surely you know?”

 

“I’m not from around here,” she said, taking the stone back from Lindir. “Where were they headed, these orcs?”

 

The three Elven men exchanged looks. Lindir explained, and Zahra knew the Force was telling her to go. According to the Elves, these orcs were headed right for the Company. Bilbo. Gandalf. Filí, Kilí. All the others!  
“I have to go!” she turned and made to leave, but Elladan grabbed her pack. 

 

“Go? Where? You’ve just arrived; surely you’re hungry or tired.”

 

She was. She was hungry and tired and the sick feeling in her stomach was growing with each millisecond that passed. She wrenched free and turned to them, walking backwards. “You don’t understand! I have to save my friends!” Then she turned and raced away, retracing her steps along the bridge, up the steps, along the path and, with one Force-fueled leap, she was up and into the night, running with all she had back to the Company.

 

*

 

The camp was empty when she arrived, daylight not long off. Everyone was gone, only their packs remained. She moved quickly, searching for the ponies and found all but four. She spotted what looked like uprooted trees in the darkness, and followed the path. Something extremely large had passed this way, and recently too. It was dark, and Zahra bent to examine the earth. She spotted the heavy footprints of the dwarves, and spotted Bilbo’s big, barefooted prints, which were so light they barely made an impression at all. She smiled and followed them, reaching out with the Force for extra guidance.

 

A light ahead had her ducking behind a bush, and the deep, guttural voices that reached her ears made her skin crawl. Moving silently, using the Force to ease her passage, she slinked forward. What she saw made her stop a gasp that would have become a laugh at the sight that beheld her. Several dwarves were being roasted alive over a fire on a rotating spit (although the fire barely touched them; their underclothes weren’t even singed), while the others were trussed up in sacks, their clothes and weapons tossed aside with no regard. And Bilbo, sweet, little Bilbo, was standing in a sack of his own, trying to talk three giant ugly creatures into not eating the dwarves. 

 

“The trick to eating dwarves is, um…” he started and trailed off, looking around for something to say. 

 

“Yes? What’s the secret?” one of the dimwitted giants said. 

 

“Yes, I’m telling you, the secret is to… skin them first!” he said, triumphant and Zahra slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle. The dwarves started to shout at Bilbo, promising they wouldn’t forget it. 

 

“What a load of rubbish!” another giant said. He accused Bilbo of taking them for fools and stalling time. He stepped forward and pushed Bilbo. “What would you have us do then? Let them all go?”

 

Zahra’s hand fell to her hip, gripping her lightsaber, ready to leap to the hobbit’s defense if need be. But a tingle in the Force made her pause. 

 

“Well….,” Bilbo said. 

 

“This little ferret is taking us for fools!” the giant said. 

 

“Ferret?” Bilbo exclaimed in indignation.

 

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf’s shout rang out.

 

“Who’s that?” one giant said.

 

“No idea,” another said. 

 

“Can we eat him to?” the third said. 

 

Zahra spotted the wizard atop a cliff. He raised his staff high and slammed it down, splitting the rock and it fell into two pieces. The morning light sliced through the gap it created. The ugly creatures cried out in pain and, to Zahra’s astonishment, they turned to stone. Gandalf appeared on the ground as the dwarves struggled from their sacks. He turned tapping one of the giants on the head. 

 

Zahra stepped from the forest and Bilbo spotted her first. “Zahra! You’re back!” He tried to hop to her but fell over. Everyone exclaimed a greeting and she smiled to them as she hurried over to help Bilbo up. She met Thorin’s eyes and found it hard to discern his expression. His blue, icy gaze was darting between her and Gandalf as his nephews helped him from his sack. 

 

“I’m back,” she said, smiling at Bilbo as she pulled at the sack and pushed it down. He stepped out of it and grinned up at her. 

 

“How long were you there?” he asked quietly.

 

She blinked in surprised then smiled. “Long enough to see your act of heroism,” she said, touching his shoulder gently. 

 

He blushed. “Why didn’t you, I dunno, step in?” he asked flushing. 

 

Her smile turned into a grin. “If I had thought, even for a moment, you and everyone’s lives were in mortal danger, believe me, Bilbo, I would have stepped in. But you had everything under control,” she said. He blushed further and smiled at her as she got to her feet once more. 

 

They stood and watched as the dwarves dressed and armed themselves, and Thorin strode up to Gandalf, bypassing Zahra altogether. She rolled her eyes. 

 

“Where did you go, if I may ask?” Thorin asked the wizard. 

 

“To look ahead,” the wizard replied. 

 

“What brought you back?”

 

“Looking behind,” Gandalf replied, a little ominously, Zahra thought, but Thorin gave him a wry smile. “Nasty business. Still they’re all in one piece.” Zahra wondered if he was referring to the dwarves or the giants.

 

“No thanks to your burglar,” Thorin said. Zahra bristled at the implication and would have torn him a new one if Gandalf hadn’t spoken first. 

 

“He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.”

 

Zahra glanced over and saw Thorin looking a little bit contrite. Then they began to talk about the giants—sorry, the trolls—and how they could have gotten to the lone lands, since none had been spotted there in years. “Not since a darker power ruled these lands,” Gandalf said. Zahra felt a shiver run through her. A darker power? That sounded an awful lot like the dark side. “They could not have moved in daylight.”

 

“There must be a cave nearby,” Thorin said, turning around. 

 

Zahra couldn’t help herself. “Well, duh,” she said, rolling her eyes again. 

 

Thorin paused to glower at her. “I see you’re back too,” he said. 

 

“Obviously,” she replied. 

 

He curled his lip and stalked off, telling the others to search for a cave where the trolls could have hid from the sun. Gandalf paused at her side. “My dear, you’ve only just returned. Must you antagonize him?”

 

She smiled. “He makes it too easy,” she said. “Wait, you knew I’d be back?”

 

Gandalf smiled, eyes twinkling. “My dear, I never doubted you for a second.” Then he followed after Thorin. 

 

“He’s a very strange man,” Zahra said. 

 

“Who?” Bilbo asked. 

 

She looked down. He’d been so quiet she’d almost forgotten he was there. “Gandalf. He seems to know things before they happen.” It was a Jedi trait. 

 

Bilbo shrugged. “He’s a wizard. They’re a peculiar lot.”

 

Zahra smiled. She couldn’t say no to that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets a sword, and Zahra meets Radagast who brings dark tidings to Gandalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I said it would be a while before I could post anymore chapters, but things worked out so here I am posting another chapter. But seriously, after today, we'll have a bit of a dry spell, but if the opportunity presents itself, I'll post another chapter later on. 
> 
> I really like this chapter, and had fun writing it. I added some Star Wars mythos to it to make the world feel a little bigger than it is. I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Also I added another tag, because it turns out Zahra sometimes has a bit of a potty mouth.

Bilbo and Zahra waited while Gandalf, Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, Bofur, and Gloin investigated the troll horde. “Durin’s beard it stinks in there!” Filí exclaimed. When he noticed that Zahra seemed unfazed by the offending stench, even from standing so near the entrance he asked, “Doesn’t the smell bother you, Zahra?”

 

The others looked over to see her shrug. “I’ve smelled worse,” she said simply. She scanned the tree line, oblivious to their dropped mouths. What could be worse than a troll horde? Bilbo wondered. 

 

Several minutes passed. Nori came out and went back in carrying a shovel. Zahra raised an eyebrow at the star-headed dwarf as he passed. He smiled and shrugged. “Just making a long-term deposit.” 

 

A few minutes later, Thorin led the others out, carrying with him a new, cob-webbed and dust-covered sword. The others followed after him, with Gandalf pausing beside Bilbo. 

 

“Bilbo,” he said.

 

“Hmm?” the hobbit asked, looking up. 

 

“Here. This is about your size.” The wizard held out a small sword to the hobbit, who took it with a sense of trepidation. 

 

“I can’t take this,” he said. 

 

“The blade is of Elivish make, which means, it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby.” Gandalf clearly wanted him to have it. But Bilbo still felt unsure.

 

“I have never used a sword in my life,” he confessed low so only the wizard and the girl could hear him. 

 

“And I hope you never have to. But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one,” the wizard said. 

 

“Take it Bilbo,” Zahra said, and he looked to her. “Something tells me you’ll need it.” She wasn’t looking at him, but away, to the east. A pensive look was on her face. 

 

“Something’s coming!” Thorin shouted.

 

“Gandalf,” Bilbo started, but the wizard was already moving on. 

 

“Stay together! Hurry now. Arm yourselves!”

 

Bilbo watched as Gandalf and Zahra moved towards the rest of the Company. He looked at the sword in his hands and drew it. An unknown feeling filled his heart, then he hurried after the others. 

 

*

 

Zahra stood beside Filí, listening to the heavy rustling coming from the trees. Several small feet pulling something heavy along. Everyone else had drawn their weapons, save her. She wouldn’t draw her lightsaber unless she absolutely had to. She’d already screwed things up enough by crash-landing on this planet and allowing the dwarves and Gandalf onto the Falcon. She couldn’t do anything else to complicate the technological advances of this planet. And they were far, far from advanced, from what she could tell with her eyes, not to mention Lowbacca’s scans and what she sensed through the Force. 

 

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” the shout reached them before the body it belonged to. A dozen or so large rabbits burst from the underbrush pulling a wooden sled. An old man in brown with what looked like—Zahra grimaced—bird droppings on his face and in his hair, was standing astride it, gripping the handles tight. He had a crazed look about him, looking around wildly. 

 

“Radagast!” Gandalf exclaimed. Zahra relaxed slightly. So he knew him. That was a relief. “Radagast the Brown. What on earth are you doing here?” He didn’t sound particularly pleased to see him, however. 

 

“I was looking for you, Gandalf,” the wizard said. “Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.”

 

“Yes?” Gandalf encouraged. 

 

Radagast looked upset suddenly. “Oh. Just give me a minute. Oh. I had a thought and now I’ve lost it. It was right there on the tip of my tongue. Oh!” he exclaimed and stuck out his tongue, still talking. “It’s not a thought at all! It’s a silly old,” Gandalf reached out a plucked something from the other wizard’s mouth, “stick insect!” He held out his hand and Gandalf dropped the insect into it. 

 

Bilbo was right, Zahra decided. Wizards were a peculiar lot. 

 

Radagast insisted on speaking but was then distracted again. His dark eyes swiveled and landed on her. “Who is this, Gandalf? She feels like us, but isn’t.”

 

“No, she is not of the Istari,” Gandalf said, ignoring the curious looks all around. “She’s human. She came from the stars.”

 

“Oh?” Radagast walked forward, staff in hand, and looked at her closely. “By the Valar, you’re right! Hello, my dear, welcome to Arda!” He doffed his hat and bowed. Zahra ignored the birds nesting in his hair and bowed slightly in return. 

 

“Hello, Radagast the Brown. I’m Zahra Rivers,” she said. 

 

“Why don’t you come with Gandalf and me while we speak? You might like to hear what we have to say,” Radagast said, smiling, his eyes twinkling like Gandalf’s. 

 

“I will, thanks,” she said, and followed the two wizards away from the others. 

 

Once the three of them were alone Radagast launched into his explanation. Zahra perched on a large tree root and listened. 

 

“The Greenwood is sick, Gandalf. A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows anymore. At least, nothing good. The air is foul with decay. But worse, are the webs.” Radagast spoke with no hint of his earlier uncertainty. Zahra felt her blood freeze at the mention of “darkness”. 

 

“Webs? What do you mean?” Gandalf asked sharply. 

 

“Spiders, Gandalf. Giant ones. Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant, or I am not a wizard. I followed their trail. They came from Dol Guldur.” 

 

Zahra stood. She had never heard of Ungoliant or this Dol Guldur place, but still, she knew they could not be good things or places or whatever they were. She could feel it in the Force. Something wasn’t right on this planet. 

 

“Dol Guldur? But the old fortress is abandoned.” Gandalf wanted to believe that, she knew. Just as she and every other Jedi back home wanted to believe that the last of the Sith had died out with Darth Caedus. But evil always had a way of coming back. 

 

Radagast shook his head. “No, Gandalf. ‘Tis not. A dark power dwells in there, such as I have never felt before. It is the shadow of an ancient horror. One that can summon the spirits of the dead. I saw him, Gandalf. From out of the darkness, a Necromancer has come.”

 

Zahra stopped listening then, her thoughts turning inward. Summon the spirits of the dead? That was Dark Side stuff, right there. Only a Sith would try to bring back the dead. Only a Sith had ever succeeded. She knew the tale of Darth Plagueis as well as any other Jedi. He’d found a way to bring back the dead. Could this be the work of a Sith? But a Sith, all the way out here, in another galaxy? It seemed too incredible. And yet, here she was, a Jedi, brought here by a wormhole by accident. Was it an accident, though? She felt the Force at work here. Maybe this was no accident. But what could it all mean? 

 

She shook her head to dispel the thoughts. If she stood here and contemplated the Force and the meaning of the universe, she’d be here until it all ended. It served no purpose to dwell on things that were outside her control; she just had to accept it and move on. 

 

Her eyes latched onto the blade wrapped in hide Gandalf now held. Radagast’s whispered words reached her ears. “That is not from the world of the living.”

 

A shiver ran down her spine and she felt sick again. But not just because of what Radagast had said. A tremor in the Force had her spinning around and running back up the slope. A howl echoed through the forest.

 

“Is that a wolf? Are there wolves out there?” Bilbo asked, panicked. 

 

Bofur answered him. “Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.”

 

“Kilí, look out!” Zahra shouted. She grabbed one of Filí’s knives and threw it with expert precision at the giant dog-like creature that had jumped from the bushes for Kilí’s back. It caught the creature square in the head and it fell. Everyone paused for a moment, staring from her to the knife embedded in the creature’s head. 

 

Thorin recovered first as his nephew pulled the knife out and handed it back to his brother. “Warg scouts. Which means an orc pack is not far behind.”

 

“Oh shit,” Zahra mumbled as Gandalf stormed up, Radagast on his heels. 

 

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandalf demanded. 

 

“No one,” Thorin replied, looking affronted. 

 

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf cried. 

 

“No one, I swear,” Thorin shouted back. 

 

“He’s telling the truth,” Zahra said. Everyone turned to her. Thorin looked shocked at her defense of him. She exchanged a look with Gandalf. 

 

“What in Durin’s name is going on?” Thorin asked. Another howl reached them, still a good distance away but growing closer. 

 

“You are being hunted.” Gandalf looked defeated. 

 

Dwalin growled. “We have to get out of here,” he said in his gruff voice. 

 

“We can’t!” Ori said, running down the slope from the direction of their camp. “We have no ponies. They bolted.”

 

“Fucking perfect,” Zahra swore, earning appraising looks and shocked ones all around. 

 

Radagast spoke up, looking determined. “I’ll draw them off.”

 

Gandalf turned on him in exasperation. “These are Gundabad Wargs. They will outrun you.”

 

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits!” Radagast said, then smiled all too eagerly. “I’d like to see them try.”

 

“I’m with you then,” Zahra said, stepping towards the wizard. 

 

“Are you mad?” Thorin cried. 

 

“I can fight, Thorin,” she replied. “You’ve just seen me in action.” She gestured to the warg she’d killed. “Radagast and I will lead the orcs on a merry little chase while the rest of you get away.”

 

“A merry little chase?” Thorin repeated. “Girl, this isn’t a stroll you’re going on. If these orcs catch you, they will kill you.”

 

She smirked. “They won’t catch me. I’m too damn good.” She was boasting, but for good reason. She had the Force on her side. She wouldn’t be caught. “And I’ll catch up to you all, don’t worry.” She gave Gandalf a pointed look, having guessed his intentions, and he almost smiled. His eyes twinkled, but the situation was too dire for him to smile. “Let’s go, Radagast.” She pulled the other wizard in the direction of his sled and team of rabbits. She crouched on the sloping seat in front of Radagast, who stood behind her. With a yell and a whoop, they got underway, leaving Gandalf to lead the dwarves and hobbit forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and I can't believe someone bookmarked this! Yay! You guys really brighten up my day!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chase is on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm going to post as many chapters as I can today. I hope you all enjoy it and that you all had a wonderful holiday. Happy New Year!

They burst from the forest and Radagast called out to the waiting orcs astride their wargs, “Come on, come on! Come and get me! Ha ha!” Zahra thought he was enjoying this a little too much, but she was smiling too. The chase was on! 

 

She looked over the side of the sled at the orcs. They were ugly creatures, metal implanted in their gray skin like armor, pointed faces pinched even tighter with anger, and wearing black rags for clothes. The weapons they wielded looked even cruder than what the dwarves used, like they’d been forged in a haphazard manner with very little skill. And they bled darkness. She could feel it in the very marrow of her bones, and deeper, into her soul. 

 

Radagast was still whooping with delight as the rabbits dragged them along at a rushing pace, dipping under rocks that jutted at odd angles, and over the rolling brown hills. The chase seemed to go on for hours, but was only a few minutes. She could feel the hum in the air as they neared the Hidden Valley’s entrance and then it faded as they moved away from it; and the same for Gandalf and the Company. She directed Radagast away from them every time they drew near. She used the Force to make as many of the orcs as possible follow her and Radagast, but it didn’t last long. The pace at which she and Radagast moved made it difficult to manipulate their minds. 

 

Just then a howl echoed over the hills, followed by a series of snarls. Concentrating, she located Gandalf’s place, and felt the others with him. They were in trouble. The orcs had discovered the ruse and had changed direction. 

 

“This is where I get off!” she shouted to Radagast. 

 

He nodded to her, and she leaped from the sled, rolling once, and sprang to her feet. She chased after the orcs at first, but then decided to circumvent them and make for the Company instead. Putting on a burst of Force enhanced speed she sped along the hills and around the rocks until she came upon them, running away from the dead bodies of a warg and its rider. She came up beside Thorin who was near the middle, and slowed to match his speed. He looked surprised to see her, but didn’t say anything. 

 

A warg rounded a rock ahead and headed right for them. Zahra only paused long enough to pull Thorin’s new blade from his belt and then raced forward, passing everyone. With a single sweep, she decapitated both the warg and the orc, spinning as she did. Turning, she saw the others had stopped, shock on their faces. Must everything she did surprise them? Another warg was racing towards them from the side, right for Bofur. She gripped the blade’s hilt and threw it. It spun, end over end, until crashing into the orc’s chest. Dwalin swung his axes and took out the warg. 

 

“Come on!” Gandalf said and they continued to run. Thorin pulled his sword from the orc and looked at her. She shrugged and hurried after Gandalf. 

 

The wizard was indeed leading them to the Hidden Pass, but he seemed unable to pinpoint its location, looking around much as she had the day before. Had that only been yesterday? It seemed a lifetime ago to her. 

 

“There’s more coming!” Dwalin shouted. Zahra spun and saw more wargs moving towards them at a fast pace. Radagast was nowhere in sight, but she could feel him. He was in one piece at least. 

 

“Kilí! Shoot them!” Thorin shouted. 

 

Kilí drew his bow and fitted an arrow to it. He shot one and it hit its mark, the shoulder of an orc. It did nothing to deter the creature, however. Zahra frowned and glanced behind her. Gandalf was gone. 

 

“Where’s Gandalf?” Dori shouted, having noticed the wizard’s absence as well. 

 

“He’s abandoned us!” Dwalin said. 

 

“Have a little faith, Dwalin,” Zahra snapped. The bald dwarf gave her an angry look, which she returned with one of her own. 

 

“Hold your ground!” Thorin shouted, as their enemies closed in around them. 

 

“This way, you fools!” Gandalf shouted, and Zahra saw him appear from behind the rock that hid the passage’s entrance. 

 

Thorin saw him and began to order the retreat. “Come on, move! Quickly! All of you!” Everyone ran towards where Gandalf had disappeared from, sliding and jumping down. Zahra scanned the area, still some ways from where Thorin stood atop the rock, making sure everyone made it. “Kilí! Run!”

 

Zahra saw the young dwarf still shooting arrows even as a warg and orc barreled down on him. She rushed forward, grabbed his arm, and threw up her right hand. With a push of the Force, she sent the warg and its rider flying backwards into a large rock. A sickening crunch reached her ears and she knew they were dead. She hauled Kilí backwards, running to join Thorin and sliding down to join the rest of the Company. She landed in a crouch, Kilí panting beside her. 

 

Another horn blasted from above, this one different from the orcs’. More musical. A body fell down the passage entrance and Zahra hauled herself and Kilí out of the way so they wouldn’t be crushed. An arrow stuck from its chest, right where its heart would be. Thorin reached for it and pulled it out. 

 

“Elves,” he said, disgust and anger plain in his voice. He shot Gandalf a look that would have disintegrated carbonite. 

 

“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?” Dwalin called back to the others from the bend of the path. 

 

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur said and they all started after the bald dwarf. 

 

“I think that would be wise,” Gandalf murmured, returning Thorin’s glare with an innocent expression. 

 

Zahra finally released Kilí, letting him join his brother. Before they followed the others, the dark haired dwarf smiled at her. “That’s twice you’ve saved me now, Zahra,” he said. 

 

She shrugged. “Perhaps one day you’ll return the favor,” she said. 

 

Kilí smiled. “Maybe,” he replied. 

 

“Thank you for saving him,” Filí said with feeling. He smiled at her too, but his smile wasn’t flirtatious like his brother’s, just sincere. They headed off, and Zahra, Bilbo and Gandalf brought up the rear. 

 

“That was a brave thing you did today, Zahra Rivers,” Gandalf murmured to her. 

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“Going with Radagast like you did. Running to our rescue over and over again. Saving Kilí twice. You’re a very brave young lady,” he said. 

 

She shrugged and looked away, trying not to blush at his praise. “It was nothing. If we were in my galaxy, I’d just have been doing my job.” A few dwarves glanced back, Filí and Kilí among them. They were all smiling at her, clearly grateful for her interference in the day’s events. 

 

“Your job involves saving people?” Bilbo asked. 

 

She smiled a little cockily, her blush receding. “My job involves saving planets,” she said. 

 

He smiled up at her. Gandalf chuckled quietly as did some of the dwarves who were listening. 

 

A few minutes passed in silence and then Bilbo began to look around curiously, a light frown on his face. “Gandalf. Where are we?” The three of them had fallen enough behind the others that their conversation could not be overheard, but the hobbit kept his voice low anyway. 

 

“You can feel it,” Gandalf said. 

 

“Yes. It feels like…,” Bilbo trailed off and paused in the middle of the path. He seemed to be having trouble finding the right words, before saying, “Well, like magic.”

 

Gandalf nodded. “That’s exactly what it is. A very powerful magic.” It was magic to them, Zahra thought, but to her, this feeling was the Force. Sometimes, even non-Force users could sense its presence, if it was concentrated enough.

 

“There’s a light ahead,” Gloin’s voice floated back to them from ahead. 

 

When they stepped from the passage, Zahra was, once again, blown away by the beauty before her. Last night, she’d seen this city in starlight. Now, in daylight, the sun lit it up, the white walls of the buildings bursting with brilliance. There were almost no shadows, just brilliant bright light. 

 

“The Valley of Imladris,” Gandalf proclaimed as everyone stared in awe. “In the Common tongue, it is known by another name.”

 

“Rivendell,” Bilbo breathed. 

 

“Here lies the Last Homely House East of the Sea,” Gandalf added. Beside him, Zahra breathed deep, letting the calm of the scene wash over her. 

 

Thorin turned to him, another heavy scowl on his face. “This was your plan all along. To seek refuge with our enemy.”

 

Zahra rolled her eyes, and Gandalf replied testily, “You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.” Zahra and Bilbo both looked sideways at the dwarf, agreeing, silently, with Gandalf. 

 

“You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us,” Thorin argued. 

 

“Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me,” Gandalf said, puffing himself up a little. 

 

“Seems a tall order. Think you can handle that?” Zahra joked. Gandalf shot her a look, eyes twinkling. 

 

“I’ve dealt with Elves for over three hundred lifetimes, my dear. I can handle this, easily.” He led the way down. Zahra, with one last shared look of amusement with Bilbo, followed behind.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company, plus Zahra, arrive at Rivendell and have dinner.

Down the path once more Zahra went. She brought up the rear, letting the others go ahead of her. Right in front of her, Bilbo was looking around, awe on his face, mouth slightly open. She smiled at his innocence. On the arching stone bridge he slipped, and only her quick reflexes managed to save him from falling over the edge. Setting him upright, he thanked her, blushing. He hurried after Gloin, and Zahra followed.

 

They entered the same courtyard she had the day before, and the dwarves and Bilbo looked around. Zahra looked up and saw Lindir descending the stairs. “Mithrandir!” he called.

 

Gandalf turned to him, beaming. “Ah, Lindir,” he said, then spoke in a fluid language that Lindir answered in. Zahra supposed it was his native tongue.

 

“Stay sharp,” Thorin murmured to Dwalin and Zahra rolled her eyes. She moved around the crowd of dwarves and stood off to the side, a part of the group and yet separate.

 

“I must speak with Lord Elrond,” Gandalf was saying, in Basic.

 

Lindir glanced at Zahra and she suddenly remembered their conversation from the day before. With all that had happened she’d completely forgotten that Lord Elrond was absent. She gave Lindir a sheepish look and shrugged. His eyes twinkled with amusement.

 

“My lord Elrond is not here,” Lindir said, returning his gaze to Gandalf.

 

“Not here?” Gandalf repeated. “Where is he?”

 

Lindir was saved from answering by the bellowing of a horn. Zahra recognized it as the same horn they’d heard after descending into the passage. Perhaps Lord Elrond was returning?

 

Thorin certainly seemed to think so, for he turned, saw horses thundering towards them across the narrow stone bridge, and cried out, “Close ranks!”

 

Bilbo was yanked back into the circle of dwarves, who raised their weapons (which they had not put away) and waited. Zahra and Gandalf, however, merely stepped back beside Lindir and watched as the horses and their Elven riders circled the group. It was an intimidating tactic, Zahra knew, and she had to fight not to laugh. Gandalf didn’t look amused though. He was frowning. The horses were pulled to a stop and a tall dark-haired man dismounted the one closest to them.

 

Gandalf stepped forward. “Lord Elrond!” As the elf greeted him, Zahra took in his appearance. He was handsome, with a slim, muscular figure, draped in clothes of gold, tan and burgundy. His armor looked delicate, yet sturdy, and his sword was curved and as handsome as his face. He wore a simple golden crown on his brow, denoting his position.

 

“Strange for Orcs to some so close to our borders,” he said his voice rich sounding and filled with wry amusement. “Something or someone has drawn them near.” He handed his sword to Lindir.

 

Gandalf gave a sheepish look. “Ah, that may have been us.” He turned to indicate the group.

 

Thorin stepped forward, lifting his chin. For all his size, Zahra had never seen him so big. In that moment, he truly looked a king.

 

“Welcome, Thorin, Son of Thrain,” Lord Elrond said. “I do not believe we have met,” Thorin said, almost graciously. “You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he lived under the mountain.”

 

“Indeed?” Thorin replied. “He made no mention of you.” Zahra closed her eyes and shook her head. Just when she was beginning to like him a little bit, he had to ruin it.

 

Lord Elrond, for his part, merely smiled. Then he spoke in his language.

 

“What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?” Gloin demanded to know.

 

“No, Master Gloin, he’s offering you food,” Gandalf said with exasperation.

 

Zahra watched as the dwarves and Bilbo put their heads together and whispered. She was sure Lord Elrond and Lindir could hear them, from the look they exchanged.

 

Finally, Gloin said, “Well in that case, lead on!”

 

They were led into the city and escorted to rooms to freshen up. Gandalf took the opportunity to introduce Zahra to Lord Elrond. He bowed to her, and seemed surprised when she bowed back.

 

“Greetings, Zahra Rivers. Welcome to Rivendell,” he said. “Lindir tells me you came here yesterday seeking my help?”

 

“Yes, sir, I did,” she said. “But when I was told that you were out hunting the orcs, I knew my friends were in trouble.” She could feel the eyes of the dwarves on her, and cringed inwardly. She’d just called them her friends. Was that the truth? She certainly liked them. (Except maybe Thorin, but he just aggravated her.) And Bilbo was her friend, and Gandalf. She had no idea what she was saying, but still, having said it, she knew there was truth in her words. “I left immediately to go after them.”

 

He nodded, dark eyes examining her face closely. “I see. Well, I hope you enjoy your stay here, and if I can be of any assistance, I hope you will let me know.”

 

“Thank you, Lord Elrond,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

He smiled at her and strode away with Gandalf. Their heads were bent together in conversation, and Zahra had a feeling Gandalf was telling the Elven lord about her abrupt arrival on their planet. Lindir was left to guide them.

 

Zahra turned and stopped. The dwarves were all still staring at her, some with arms crossed (Dwalin, Gloin, Dori, _Thorin_ ) and others were grinning at her (Nori, Ori, Bofur, Bifur, Filí and Kilí). It was quite disconcerting.

 

“What?” she asked, demanded, really. Her hands went to her hips and she looked at them.

 

“So, we’re your friends?” Kilí asked eagerly. His flirting grin was back in place.

 

Zahra straightened. “Well, if you want to be, I guess.”

 

“Of course!” Bilbo piped up, suddenly. Then he blushed when all eyes went to him. “I mean, er, I thought we already were.”

 

Thorin grunted and turned to stride away.

 

“Some of you are,” Zahra said, glaring after the dwarven king-in-exile. The others laughed and Lindir, smiling genially, led them on.

 

The dwarves and Bilbo were led to a suite of rooms that were a level below where Zahra ended up. Lindir showed her into a room that was filled with white. The walls, desk, desk-chair, wardrobe, bed, all were made of a gleaming white wood. He showed her to a small pool just outside her room where she could bathe when she wished. At the look on her face, he assured her that the bathing place could not be seen from anywhere else in the city. She nodded, deposited her bag on the bed and then he led her to dinner.

 

To Zahra’s surprise, the dwarves were already there, except for Thorin. Gandalf, too, was absent, as well as Lord Elrond, but footsteps behind her had her turning.

 

“Kind of you to invite us,” Gandalf was saying. “Not really dressed for dinner.” Zahra looked down at her own rumpled Jedi robes, and flushed a little.

 

“Well, you never are,” Lord Elrond responded. Zahra could hear the laughter in his voice.

 

Lindir led her to the table that was clearly meant for Lord Elrond. He, Gandalf, and Thorin waited for her to sit, then sat themselves after Lindir had pushed in her chair. To Zahra’s dismay, she realized that elves clearly only ate vegetables and fruits. There was no meat on the table, and she picked at the salad in front of her, eating mostly bread. She asked for water instead of wine, and drank the cool, clear liquid. She’d never felt so refreshed. Gandalf was telling Thorin to show Lord Elrond his new sword, which the dwarf king-in-exile did with barely disguised reluctance and the others were complaining quietly amongst themselves about the lack of meat at their own table. Kilí was smiling at a harpist, before catching Dwalin’s eye, and muttering some ridiculous excuse about preferring women with beards.

 

“This is Orcrist,” Lord Elrond said, examining Thorin’s sword, “the Goblin-Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High-Elves of the West, my kin.” He handed it back to Thorin who nodded, his eyes gleaming with newfound pride at the sword he gripped in his hands. Lord Elrond picked up Gandalf’s sword. “And this is Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, sword of the king of Gondolin. These swords were made for the Goblin wars of the first age…” Whatever else he said was lost to Zahra as she looked away, watching the others enviously. At least they seemed to be having fun. All this talk of swords and long-ago wars was making her think too much of home. A wistfulness passed through her and she _ached_ in her heart.

 

She saw Bilbo, examining his own small sword. Balin leaned forward and whispered to him. She couldn’t hear him over the clamoring of the others, but the look on Bilbo’s face made her heart hurt for him instead of herself.

 

“How did you come by these?” Lord Elrond said, and she looked around again.

 

“We found them in a troll-hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs,” Gandalf said, dramatically. Zahra lifted her goblet and smiled into it as she sipped her water.

 

“And what were you doing on the Great East Road?” Lord Elrond asked, amusedly. Everything Gandalf said or did seemed to cause him amusement.

 

Thorin suddenly said, “Excuse me,” and got up from his chair. Zahra watched him move off to the side of the veranda and pull a large silver flask out from somewhere and take a sip, a dark, contemplative look on his face.

 

“Thirteen dwarves and a Halfling, hm. And a child of Man who fell from the stars. Strange traveling companions, Gandalf,” Lord Elrond said to the wizard. Zahra bristled a little at the implication that she was a child.

 

“These are the descendants of the house of Durin! They’re noble, decent folk. And they’re surprisingly cultured. They’ve got a deep love of the arts,” Gandalf protested, though it seemed weak to Zahra. She looked over her shoulder in time to see Oin stuff a cloth napkin into his hearing trumpet. Apparently the music was not to his taste. “And Zahra is more powerful than you seem to think, aren’t you my dear?”

 

Zahra blinked at being suddenly addressed. She nodded. “I may be young, Lord Elrond, but I have my uses.”

 

Gandalf’s mustache twitched. “She undervalues herself. Twice she’s saved young Kilí. She’s saved us all! If you could have seen her today, Lord Elrond, you would be most impressed, I can tell you that!”

 

Lord Elrond’s dark eyes lit on her with interest. “Really?” he said. “A pity, then, that we arrived too late today to see you fight.”

 

Zahra smiled uncomfortably and stuffed more bread into her mouth.

 

Bofur suddenly exclaimed, “All right, lads. There’s only one thing for it!” And he climbed onto the table and then onto a small round table in the middle of the veranda. Then he began to sing. “There’s an… inn, there’s an inn, there’s a merry old inn, beneath an old gray hill….”

 

Zahra’s mouth dropped open and she grinned as the rest of the dwarves joined in. Food was flying, fists were slamming onto tables, and feet were stomping. Even Thorin had looked up from his brooding and was dancing a little, tapping his foot in time with the beat. Gandalf gave Lord Elrond a pained smile, and Lindir looked utterly put-out as some potato crashed into the statue at his head. And Zahra, too nearly everyone’s surprise, was bent over the table, laughing and holding her stomach.

 

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Elrond reveals a secret of Thorin's map, and Zahra faces a challenge... sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, I know, but I hope you guys don't mind.

It was late in the evening when Gandalf came to her room and told her to follow him. Zahra, intrigued, set down her bag, which she’d been rifling through out of sheer boredom, and followed. Gandalf led her to a large library, where Thorin, Balin, Bilbo and Lord Elrond were already waiting. She raised an eyebrow, ignoring the dark look Thorin shot her and went to stand beside Bilbo, hands clasped in front of her.

 

“Our business is no concern of elves,” Thorin growled, insultingly. Lord Elrond didn’t look the least bit insulted, however, merely putting his hands behind his back and examining the ceiling above him. “And the child has no part in this either.”

 

“Go jump in a lake,” Zahra retorted mildly. Bilbo snorted. Lord Elrond smiled at his ceiling.

 

“For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map,” Gandalf said.

 

“It is the legacy of my people!” Thorin protested. Balin paced beside him, clearly not happy with this turn of events either. “It is mine to protect, as are its secrets.”

 

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves,” Gandalf said, a sentiment that Zahra could certainly share. She even nodded to herself. “Your pride will be your downfall. You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle-Earth who can read that map! Show it to Lord Elrond.”

 

Everyone looked to Thorin. Thorin glanced around at them, and then his eyes landed on Zahra. Her words from two days before rang in her ears, and she wondered if he was remembering them too. _He’s trying to help you and yet you spurn him! You are an idiot, you know that? You are so determined to do this all on your own, aren’t you, taking help from no one. And yet you have a wizard and a hobbit in your Company. You are just a bully, playing at being a king. You have no right to whatever crown awaits you in that mountain._

 

She regretted those words now, but still, she met Thorin’s gaze with her own evenly, daring him to go against Gandalf, to refuse help when it was offered. To her surprise, he lifted the map and held it out to Lord Elrond. Balin tried to stop him, but Thorin gave him a look that had the white-haired dwarf backing down.

 

Lord Elrond took the map and unfolded it. “Erebor. What is your interest in this map?”

 

“It’s mainly academic,” Gandalf lied, saving Thorin from answering… or insulting their host. “As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text.” Zahra could see that Lord Elrond didn’t really believe him. She didn’t either. “You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?” Gandalf asked. Lord Elrond didn’t answer. He held the map up to the moonlight and said something in his own language. “Moon runes?” Gandalf translated. “Of course.” To the rest of them he added, “An easy thing to miss.”

 

“Well in this case, that is true. Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.” Lord Elrond examined the map closely, his keen eyesight taking in every detail.

 

“Can you read them?” Thorin asked.

 

Lord Elrond smiled. He led them to an outcropping of rock outside as he replied. “These runes were written on a Midsummer’s Eve, by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago,” he said, placing the map on a large white stone. “It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight.” Zahra shivered. Was it fate? Or the Force? She and Bilbo looked out at the moon. It was indeed a crescent shape. She’d take their word for it that it was the middle of summer.

 

The moonlight, filtering thorough a waterfall that spilled down before them, hit the white stone, lighting it up and blue-white runes appeared on the map. “Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks,” Lord Elrond read, “and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.”

 

“Durin’s Day?” Bilbo asked. Zahra crossed her arms and kept silent.

 

“It is the start of the dwarves’ new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together,” Gandalf explained.

 

Thorin looked thoughtful and chagrined. “This is ill news. Summer is passing; Durin’s Day will soon be upon us.”

 

“We still have time.” Balin said, stepping forward.

 

“Time? For what?” Bilbo asked.

 

Zahra was beginning to lose interest. She yawned hugely, covering her mouth with her hand. It seemed an age since she’d gotten any real rest.

 

“Time to find the entrance. We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then and only then, will the door be opened.” Balin put his hands on his hips, seemingly satisfied with his rather obvious deduction.

 

“So this is your purpose?” Elrond said, disapprovingly. “To enter the mountain?”

 

“What of it?” Thorin challenged in his deep baritone. Zahra rolled her eyes, trying, and failing, to suppress another yawn. Thorin’s eyes flickered to her before moving back to Lord Elrond.

 

“There are some who would not deem it wise,” Lord Elrond replied mildly, handing the map back to Thorin.

 

“What do you mean?” Gandalf asked.

 

Lord Elrond paused as he turned to go, and said, “You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-Earth.” He walked away.

 

Gandalf looked thoughtful, and he turned to them. “Zahra, my dear girl, you look asleep on your feet,” he said.

 

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, and could not stop the yawn that escaped. Tears pricked at her eyes and she wiped them away.

 

“Child, you must get some rest,” Gandalf said, moving to her side. “Do not think that I have been ignorant of your sleeping habits these past few weeks. You barely sleep as it is preferring, I think, to stay up and watch over us, even when Thorin sets a watch himself.”

 

Thorin looked at her sharply. “Is this true?” he asked, low. Zahra could not decipher the tone of his voice, and decided quickly that she didn’t care.

 

She shrugged. “I sleep,” she said, defensively. “Just not much.”

 

The thunderous look that appeared on Thorin’s brow took her aback. “You’re a child!” he snapped, angrily. “You need to sleep.”

 

She sniffed, crossing her arms tighter across her body. “I’m a Jedi. The ‘child’ part is secondary.”

 

“Not to us, it isn’t!” Thorin objected.

 

Zahra looked down, the fight gone out of her. “Why do you care?” she asked quietly. “You don’t even like me, or want me around.” She looked him in the eye, green on blue. Without thinking about what she was saying, too tired to sift through her thoughts, she added, “You’re just like my father.”

 

The shock that rippled through the four males was completely lost on her in her fatigued state. She turned on her heel and disappeared after Lord Elrond. In her room, she slipped off her boots, tugged off her belt and fell into bed. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

*

 

Bilbo was sure that he wasn’t the only one shocked by Zahra’s rather surprising revelation. Had she meant it, what she’d said? Did her father really not want her around? What kind of parent wouldn’t want their own child around? Gandalf had advised them, before he parted from them at their rooms, not to speak to Zahra about this. “She was clearly tired,” he’d said, “and obviously didn’t know what she was saying. In fact, she may not even remember it in the morning. Also, I would advise that we keep this new bit of information about our young friend entirely between the four of us, agreed?”

 

They’d agreed, but had been bombarded by questions as soon as the door shut behind them. Filí and Kilí, it turned out, had overheard Gandalf’s warning. Thorin admonished his nephews for eavesdropping, before retiring to a corner with Balin and Dwalin. The others had gathered around Bilbo and demanded answers which the little hobbit had given with great reluctance. The dwarves had sat in stunned silence when he was finished.

 

He knew that none of them knew what to do with this information. He surely didn’t. He looked over at Thorin and his cousins, their heads bent together in close discussion. From the grim looks on their faces, he figured they were facing the same dilemma. Not that he could blame them. Zahra had been rather close-lipped about herself during their travels, and no one had bothered to ask her about herself, beyond the basic pleasantries. Bilbo had deduced, as he was sure their companions had, that no answers would be forthcoming even if they had asked. She kept her feelings close, her secrets even closer.

 

So when Kilí got to his feet after several minutes, Bilbo wasn’t the only one taken by surprise. Everyone looked up at him. “I’m going to go see her,” he declared.

 

“You will not,” Dori said, getting to his feet. “She’s sleeping, boy. She hardly sleeps when she’s with us. Do you really want to wake her up?”

 

Kilí looked uncertain. His brother stood up beside him. “We won’t wake her, Dori,” the golden-haired prince said. “We just want to check on her.” Kilí nodded excitedly in agreement. They both turned to their uncle, who was looking over with a blank expression. “Can we uncle?” Filí asked.

 

Thorin waited for several long moments, while the others held their breath. Then he sighed. “Go ahead.” Everyone was on their feet and out the door in seconds.

 

At Zahra’s door, they paused. Bilbo looked around, surprised to see that Thorin, Balin and Dwalin had come with them. He reached for the handle and silently pushed open the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find, things scattered about, clothes strewn everywhere, perhaps. He’d expected Zahra to have made this room her own. What he had not expected, what they found, was her boots beside the bed, having been taken off in languid haste, and the rest of her belongings kept to the desk and chair. Her pack was on the chair, her hooded robe lying over the back, her belt laid on top of the desk. Zahra herself had not changed out of the clothes she’d been wearing for the entirety of their travels, and was lying on her stomach, face turned to them, and sound asleep. Her right arm was hanging over the edge, one leg hitched up beside her. As they all filed in, she made a noise, like a groan, and rolled over on to her back, leg straightening out, arm flinging out with abandon, narrowly missing hitting Kilí’s face, as he’d bent over her to make sure she was breathing. Her red-gold hair was now fanned out around her face. Bilbo blinked to see her like this. Every night, she’d been awake when he fell asleep, and every morning she’d been awake when he’d risen. Seeing her like this, so vulnerable, so open to attack and danger, made her seem so….

 

“Young,” he whispered.

 

“What?” Bofur asked from beside him, not taking his eyes from the girl before them, pity shining in his brown gaze.

 

“She looks so young,” Bilbo replied, glancing around. “It’s easy to forget how young she is. At least it was for me. She’s sixteen. Still a child by anyone’s reckoning. She shouldn’t have to go through all this.”

 

“But she is,” Balin said, in just as low a whisper. “She’s here, she’s with us, and we have to keep her safe.”

 

“I think she can take care of herself,” Kilí replied, but Bilbo saw that he didn’t fully believe that.

 

“She can, we’ve seen her do it,” Balin agreed, nodding. “But the point is she shouldn’t have to. Where her father has failed her, we shouldn’t.” Bilbo saw the white-haired dwarf look pointedly at Thorin, who worked his jaw in consternation.

 

As they stood there, Zahra began to mutter in her sleep, and then her mutters grew to whimpers. Bilbo and the dwarves glanced at each other in worry. Should they wake her? Should they not? What should they do? “No. No. Master,” Zahra said under her breath, but loud enough for them all to hear. Moonlight flowed through the thin window above her head, turning her golden skin silver, and leaching her hair of its glow. “Master. Master!” She sat up, eyes wide, breathing heavily.

 

Silence. Bilbo and the Company were tense, waiting. Zahra looked down at herself. Then she turned her head, taking them all in with one sweep of her eyes. Her eyes seemed to linger on Bilbo before moving on and landing on the desk. Bilbo looked over and realized that something on her belt was blinking.

 

“What--?” he started, but he didn’t know what he would have said for, in a flash, Zahra was off the bed and at the desk, moving with an alertness that belied the fatigue she must have surely still been feeling. She grabbed up the belt and flicked open one of the pouches, pulling out a small golden cylinder which was the source of the flashing.

 

She turned to look at them without really seeing them, and flicked something on the side of the thing she held. “Lowbacca,” she said into it, her voice hoarse with tiredness. Bilbo frowned, but then his eyebrows shot up when he heard, distant and distorted, the answering howl issuing from the device she held. Zahra walked right past them, not even bothering to put her boots back on, and out the door.

 

After a split-second, Bilbo and the dwarves hurried after her. They followed her down the long corridor, down a set of stairs, and into an overgrown, yet somehow still well-tended courtyard. A fountain spouted silvery water at its heart. Zahra was standing beside it, head tilted back, staring up at the star-filled sky. “I’m outside now,” she was saying. “What does Artoo say?” Her voice was deceptively calm, Bilbo thought, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, throughout every line of her body. She seemed coiled tightly, ready to spring. Eru knew what she would do when she finally did.

 

Bilbo and the dwarves waited behind her listening to her conversation with Lowbacca. “It’s gone, Lowbacca,” she said, and here her voice began to crack as clear panic began to set in. “I felt it go in my sleep. Gone. Without a trace.” She began to pace in front of the fountain, eyes flickering every few seconds to Bilbo and the others, but giving no indication that she really saw them. “How can it have gone?”

 

Lowbacca answered her. Whatever he said seemed to do little to appease her, for she then shouted, “How are we going to get home?!” Bilbo’s eyes widened and he looked up, knowing he wasn’t the only one to do so, and knowing he couldn’t see anything but stars. He had a feeling that whatever had brought her to Middle-Earth—what had she called it? A wormhole?—was no longer there for them to use to travel back to their home, wherever that was. What did that mean?

 

Lowbacca was speaking again, his growls and warbles unintelligible to Bilbo. The Wookiee’s voice was low and soothing, clearly attempting to calm the girl down. And not succeeding. “It’s gone, Lowie. Gone! What do you think that means? It means we’re fucking stuck here!” Bilbo flinched at the harshness of her words, but could not fault her for them. From the looks on the faces of his dwarven companions, they couldn’t either. They all knew what it was like to be without a home. Zahra was no different from them.

 

“What does Artoo say?” she asked again after a long minute of trying to rein in her temper. She’d stopped pacing and was standing once more by the fountain, her back to them. “Will it come back?” Bilbo waited along with her, holding his breath. “Calculations allude to the possibility?” she said, clearly repeating what she’d been told. She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Great. Fucking great.” She sighed heavily. “I’ll be in touch.” Then she lowered the device and clicked it off. She stood there a moment with her shoulders slumped forward in clear defeat. She made a noise that sounded like a sniff and her hand was raised to her face. A moment later, she turned, a small smile on her face. “Sorry about that, guys,” she said, moving forward slowly. There were no signs on her face that she’d been crying a moment ago, even if they all knew she had been.

 

“What happened?” Thorin asked.

 

She looked at him a moment, her smile slipping. Her face was pale, Bilbo saw. Paler than it should have been, even in moonlight. “Nothing,” she said, faintly. Thorin crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow at her. Realizing that he wasn’t going to be satisfied with such a weak answer, she let out a breath. She gestured up towards the sky with the hand that still held the strange device. “The wormhole’s gone. But Lowbacca says that Artoo—one of the droids on the Falcon—said that there’s a possibility it could come back.”

 

No one spoke for a moment. Then…. “I’m sorry,” Bilbo said.

 

She looked at him, face empty suddenly. Then she smiled—or tried to. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Stuff like this happens all the time.” She shrugged, her stance shifting into one of nonchalance as if none of them had just witnessed her meltdown. Her fear. “I’m a Jedi. I’m used to this sort of thing.” A lie. Bilbo knew it. The dwarves knew it. What was worse, Zahra knew it to. Something flashed across her face, and Bilbo knew, too, that she was seconds away from breaking again. Without another word, she moved swiftly past them and disappeared up the stairs heading back to her room.

 

Bilbo wondered if she would get any more sleep that night.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small interlude for Zahra and Bilbo, and Zahra meets someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this!

She did sleep, though it was restless and filled with dreams that she wished she could forget when she finally woke the next morning. She was still tired, though not as tired as she had been last night. Last night… She didn’t want to remember last night, yet how could she forget? There almost seemed no point to continuing on this journey with the Company. What was the point? She was stuck on this primitive planet. 

 

A second after thinking that, she admonished herself for doing so. A Jedi was above such petty thoughts, such hopelessness. If there was one thing her Master had taught her, it was that there was always hope, even in the darkest of situations. And this certainly qualified as a dark situation, she thought, wryly. 

 

A bath, she decided after a moment, was in order. Stripping her clothes off, she grabbed a towel and moved to the outside bath. The water was warm and felt good. The soaps lined up beside the bath were floral scented, and she used one that smelled like honey and clover on her hair and skin. Drying off she wrapped the towel around her body and used a comb on her hair, braiding it down her back, and tying it off. In her room, she fetched her spare clothes out of her bag and put them on. They were still brown like the others, but a darker shade. Her boots went on last and then her belt was strapped around her waist. She breathed out. She was ready. 

 

She opened the door and nearly fell over Filí and Kilí and Bilbo, who was poised to knock. “What are you three doing here?” Zahra asked, surprised. 

 

“We wanted to see how you were doing after last night,” Kilí said. 

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“You still look tired,” Bilbo noted. “Did you sleep?”

 

“Some,” she answered. “Though not well.” The Hobbit frowned. “Don’t worry. I’ll probably sleep better tonight. Anyway, I’m hungry. You guys got any food? Preferably with some meat?”

 

The dwarven princes smiled and grabbed her by the arms to drag her along with them, down to their rooms, and inside where Bofur was roasting some sausages over the fire they’d built in the center of their room with pieces of broken furniture. She sat between Filí and Kilí with an irritated looking Bilbo sitting on Kilí’s other side. A plate was thrust into her hands, and she ate heartily, more food placed on her plate as she cleared it and a mug of wine thrust into her hands. She drank the wine along with the food, too thirsty to ask for something else. When she was too full to eat any more, she thanked the dwarves and offered to help clean up. 

 

Thorin, who had been sitting in the corner with Balin and Dwalin, watching her and his nephews as they ate and joked together said, “You don’t need to. The others will handle it.”

 

She blinked at him. “Okay,” she said. She wasn’t sure what she else she should say, if anything. Then she remembered. You’re just like my father. Had she really said that? The memory was hazy, but there. If she had…oh, Force, why had she said that? She looked down, flushing slightly. “I think I’ll go for a walk, in that case,” she said. “Anyone want to join me?”

 

Head shakes from the dwarves, but Bilbo piped up, “I’ll go with you.” Zahra smiled down at him, the first truly genuine smile to grace her lips that morning. The pink that entered Bilbo’s cheeks told her he knew that too. He smiled and they left together. 

 

They walked around the city of Rivendell, taking in its beauty, serenity and soothing affect. The Force was so strong here, filling every little crevice that Zahra felt her anger at her situation, as well as her fear, begin to melt away. Then as they inspected the frescoes on a wall that depicted a great battle from long ago, she felt a prickle of unease run down her spine. No, not unease. Something more, for she felt no ill intent. They were being watched. She excused herself from Bilbo who had turned to look at a broken sword on display and backtracked, using the Force to cloak her presence. She found what she was looking for soon enough. Or rather, who.  
“Hello, there. Tell me, is it a common practice in this world to spy on others?” she said, crossing her arms and resting her weight on one leg. 

 

Elladan, Elrohir and a tall, beautiful woman with silvery-blonde hair turned to her. They were standing on yet another stone bridge that arched high above the room where she had just been with Bilbo. She could still see the Hobbit in there, still studying the paintings on the walls. 

 

“We weren’t spying on you,” Elladan said with a glance at his brother and the woman with them. 

 

“Then what would you call what you were doing?” she asked.

 

The woman spoke, her voice surprisingly deep yet melodious, “We were merely observing.” Her ethereal white gown made her look even paler and she seemed to glow with light. “My grandsons told me of you when I arrived. I was intrigued.”

 

“Grandsons?” Zahra repeated, looking at Lord Elrond’s sons. 

 

“Yes. Their mother was my daughter,” the woman replied. “My name is Galadriel, and I am the Lady of Lothlorién.”

 

Zahra swallowed. She bowed. “My name is Zahra Rivers,” she said, as she straightened. “But I’m sure you already knew that, given the spying and all. Or, I’m sorry, the ‘observing’.” She put air-quotes around the word, making clear the depths of her skepticism. She was sure Lady Galadriel was suppressing a smile. Her grandsons weren’t even trying. 

 

A presence behind her had her turning and her eyes alighted on three tall, fair-haired Elven men. She narrowed her eyes on them. “Who are you?” she asked. 

 

“My apologies for startling you,” the one in the middle said, his voice smoother than honey. Her eyes narrowed even more. “My name is Haldir and these are my brothers, Rúmil and Orophin. We are, at the moment, acting as the Lady’s guards.” He gave her a small bow, which his brother’s mirrored. 

 

Zahra nodded. “Nice to meet you,” she said, though her tone implied that it was anything but nice. Haldir seemed to sense this, for he smiled at her. His gaze flicked behind her and she turned and jumped slightly. Lady Galadriel was standing right behind her.

 

“You seem tired,” she said. 

 

“I’m okay,” Zahra said, taking a step back. 

 

“Are you? Elrond told me your story. You are not from this world.”

 

Zahra tensed. She stood tall, back straight. “What of it?” she asked, sounding shockingly like Thorin had the night before. She knew she was being rude, but right then she didn’t care. 

 

“It is most intriguing,” Lady Galadriel said again. “As is the power I sense from you.”

 

Zahra stepped back. “Enough,” she said. “I don’t know what you want with me, but whatever it is, you’re not getting it.” She turned and made to walk away, but was blocked by Haldir and his brothers. “Move,” she said. After a second, and a glance at their lady, they did. Walking off, Zahra hoped for a clean getaway. 

 

“You really should sleep, Zahra Rivers,” Lady Galadriel called after her. 

 

Zahra stopped and looked back, hoping the weariness she suddenly felt wasn’t as obvious on her face as she feared it was. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she said, and added, “but thanks for the concern.”

 

She walked away without another backwards glance. 

 

When she finally found Bilbo it was to see Lord Elrond walking away from him. She paused and Lord Elrond stopped beside her. 

 

“I ran into your mother-in-law,” she said. 

 

He lifted one dark eyebrow at her, clearly fighting a smile. Why did everyone do that around her? 

 

“Did you?” he asked. “And what did you think of her?”

 

Zahra pursed her lips together and didn’t answer, which seemed to be answer enough for him. “Don’t worry,” he said. “She has that affect on everyone. You get used to it after a while.” He walked off. 

 

“I hope not,” Zahra muttered to herself and joined Bilbo on the balcony. He greeted her with a smile, but his eyes were thoughtful and preoccupied. “What did Lord Elrond want?”

 

“He told me I could stay here if I wished,” Bilbo answered. 

 

“Will you?” she asked. 

 

Bilbo answered honestly. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

 

She smiled and patted his shoulder. They spoke no more on the matter. They merely stood in companionable silence until dinner.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra attends the White Council meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, this is not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own! Another long chapter, sorry!

Nothing happened that night, except that, at Thorin’s request, Lindir gave her a sleeping draught that put her into a deep, dreamless sleep. She slept for ten hours straight, and woke feeling more refreshed than she had in months. She changed outfits again (her dirty clothes had been taken the day before, washed and dried and folded, and put on her bed again) and packed the extra changes of clothes given to her by the Elves of Rivendell. She had a feeling that something was going to happen, though she didn’t know what. And when Lindir came to fetch her that evening, she knew she was right. He led her to Lord Elrond’s study and she waited until the lord in question and Gandalf arrived. Lord Elrond didn’t seem surprised to see her, but Gandalf was. 

 

“Zahra, what are you doing here?” the wizard asked. 

 

She shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

 

They both turned to Lord Elrond. “We have things to discuss,” he said. “If you will follow me.”

 

Exchanging a curious look with Gandalf, the two of them followed after the Elven Lord. She paid no attention to what they were saying at first, until they started to talk about the dwarves.

 

“Of course I was going to tell you,” Gandalf was saying, “I was waiting for this very moment. And really, I think, you can trust that I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Do you?” Lord Elrond replied. “That dragon has slept for sixty years. What would happen if your plan should fail, if you wake that beast?”

 

They were walking ahead of her, across another bridge. They seemed to have forgotten she was there. She listened closely. 

 

“What if we succeed?” Gandalf countered. He was doing everything he could to justify the dwarves’ quest to Lord Elrond, though it seemed to Zahra that it was none of the elf’s business. “If the dwarves take back the mountain our defenses in the east will be strengthened.” Was that all this was to the wizard then? A way to “strengthen their defenses”? Against what? 

 

“It is a dangerous move, Gandalf,” Elrond replied. She had to agree with that. But this wasn’t her world, was it? She had nothing at stake in what was happening other than to get what she needed to fix the Millennium Falcon and go home (if they could). 

 

She felt eyes on them and paused in the shadow of a tree and looked to her right. Bilbo was standing on the stairs far to the right, clearly listening, his eyes tracking the wizard and elf. He didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. Behind him stood Thorin, also listening, his expression one of quiet brooding. She tilted her head, watching the dwarf king-in-exile. How did he feel about these powerful beings deciding his future for him, as if they could? If it were her, she wouldn’t have been too happy about it. In fact, she was sure she’d feel quite bitter. Her eyes widened at this new epiphany. Maybe that was why Thorin was so prickly all the time. Or part of the reason, anyway. 

 

“It is also dangerous to do nothing,” Gandalf argued. “Oh, come, the Throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birthright. What is it you fear?” Bilbo turned and saw Thorin behind him. As the others continued to speak, pausing in the middle of the bridge, the Hobbit turned back to watch them, clearly a bit uncomfortable with Thorin’s presence as they listened to the elf and wizard discuss the dwarf-king. 

 

“Have you forgotten?” Elrond replied, lowering his voice slightly, but not enough. Zahra continued to watch Thorin. “A strain of madness runs deep in that family.” Zahra felt shock ripple through her, but didn’t look away from Thorin who lowered his head. He was ashamed, she realized, and her heart hurt for him. “His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness.” Bilbo was looking even more uncomfortable now. “Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?” Thorin turned away, hiding his face, but Zahra could still sense the turmoil in him, the fear that he would fall to madness, the need to prove himself a better dwarf—a better king—than his forebears. 

 

They started walking again, and Zahra stepped from the shadows to follow. Bilbo didn’t see her, and Thorin certainly didn’t. They’d both left the stairs, Thorin to brood in the company of his kin, and Bilbo to think about what he’d overheard. 

 

“Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle-Earth.”

 

“With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain,” Gandalf replied as they climbed a set of free-standing stairs, Zahra behind them. “They’re determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe that Thorin Oakenshield feels that he is answerable to anyone. Nor, for that matter, am I.” Zahra smiled at his sass. 

 

“It is not me you must answer to,” Lord Elrond said as they reached their destination, a small round courtyard, with many arches leading to different rooms. Lord Elrond directed his gaze directly ahead and both Zahra and Gandalf followed his gaze. 

 

Zahra rolled her eyes, as Lady Galadriel, dressed in a long, fine silver-gray dress, and silver diadem on her brow, slowly turned and smiled down at them. 

 

“Lady Galadriel,” Gandalf said, moving forward, sounding as if he’d been given new life. 

 

“Mithrandir,” she said, and proceeded to greet him in Elvish, which Gandalf answered in. Whatever he said made her smile. 

 

“I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you,” Gandalf continued in Basic. Zahra stiffened as she felt a surge ripple through the Force and she turned to see a man in white, with long white hair and beard, carrying a black staff. 

 

“He didn’t,” the man, who was clearly another wizard, said in a rich, deep baritone voice. “I did.”

 

Gandalf gave a pained look to Lord Elrond (who was smiling, again) and turned to greet the newcomer. “Ah. Saruman,” Gandalf greeted him with a bow. 

 

The older man smiled at him. “You’ve been busy of late, my friend,” he said. Despite the smile, he clearly didn’t approve. He looked at Zahra. “And this is the girl who fell from the stars, is it?” He appraised her as he sat at the small round table in the center of the courtyard. Gandalf took the remaining chair. 

 

“I’m Zahra Rivers,” she said, and offered him a bow. 

 

Saruman nodded to her. “I can sense the power in you,” he said. “Most intriguing.” He turned to Gandalf and began to reprimand him for his role in the dwarves’ quest. 

 

Zahra couldn’t help a glance at Galadriel, who smiled at her knowingly. Zahra huffed and leaned against a stone archway, putting one foot up against the stone behind her and crossing her arms. This was going to be a long night. 

 

*

 

“Tell me, Gandalf,” Saruman said, “did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?”

 

“Unnoticed?” Gandalf repeated. “No. I’m simply doing what I feel to be right.”

 

Zahra adjusted her stance and tipped her head back. The sun was rising in the east and she was tired, hungry, and growing grumpier with every passing second. 

 

“The dragon has long been on your mind,” Lady Galadriel intoned.

 

“That is true, my lady,” Gandalf said. “Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy a dragon could be used to terrible effect.”

 

“What enemy?” Saruman asked. Zahra lifted her head, watching closely. “Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength.”

 

Gandalf nodded, then lifted his head and said, “Does it not worry you that the last of the Dwarf rings should simply vanish along with its bearer?” What ring? Zahra felt a little lost. “Of the seven Dwarf rings, four were consumed by dragons; two were taken by Sauron before he fell in Mordor. The last of the Dwarf rings remains unknown. The ring that was worn by Thrain.” This seemed to affect Lady Galadriel more than any of them. 

 

“Without the ruling Ring of Power the seven are of no value to the enemy,” Saruman argued. Gandalf didn’t seem convinced. “To control the other rings, he needs the One.” A shiver ran down Zahra’s spine, yet she wasn’t sure why. All this talk of rings and “the enemy” were lost on her. “And that ring was lost long, long ago. It was swept out to sea by the waters of the Anduin.”

 

Lord Elrond finally spoke up. He and Lady Galadriel had been pacing around the courtyard listening, occasionally speaking. Zahra finally lowered herself to the ground and leaned against the stone at her back, wrapping her arms around knees, ankles crossed. 

 

“Gandalf, for four hundred years we have lived in peace,” Lord Elrond said. “A hard won, watchful peace.”

 

“Are we? Are we at peace?” Gandalf didn’t seem to think so. “Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road.”

 

“Hardly a prelude to war,” Lord Elrond said. 

 

Zahra wanted to speak, to say that just because they weren’t being attacked, just because they had the resources and the training to fight back, didn’t mean that something wasn’t coming. She wanted to back Gandalf up. There was something wrong, something very wrong, here on this planet. She’d felt it at the farm before she’d fought with Thorin. She’d felt it in the forest when Radagast had spoken of Dol Guldur and the Necromancer. She couldn’t feel it here in Rivendell. The light side of the Force permeated this place so completely she couldn’t feel anything outside of it. But she knew that Gandalf was right. 

 

She felt eyes on her and looked up at Lady Galadriel. She held her gaze for a long moment, then looked away. She would not speak. It wouldn’t do any good. 

 

“Always you must meddle, looking for trouble where none exists,” Saruman said. 

 

“Let him speak,” Lady Galadriel said, continuing to walk around the room, and her eyes finally left Zahra. 

 

“There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful,” Gandalf said. “We can remain blind to it, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it Mirkwood. And they say….” 

 

“Well? Don’t stop now. Tell us what the woodsmen say,” Saruman urged, a little mockingly. 

 

“They speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur. A sorcerer who can summon the dead,” Gandalf said. Zahra put her face to her knees. She didn’t want to hear this again, but it could not be avoided. 

 

“That’s absurd,” Saruman said. “No such power exists in this world. This Necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man. A conjurer dabbling in black magic.”

 

“And so I thought too,” Gandalf replied. “But Radagast has seen—."

 

“Radagast?” Saruman interjected. “Do not speak to me of Radagast the Brown. He’s a foolish fellow.”

 

“Well, he’s odd, I grant you,” Gandalf agreed. “He lives a solitary life.”

 

“It’s not that. It’s his excessive consumption of mushrooms. They’ve addled his brain and yellowed his teeth.” 

 

Zahra bit back a snort of laughter and listened as Saruman droned on about his conversation with Radagast about the mushrooms. She looked up, and noticed Galadriel staring at the back of Gandalf’s head. From the look on his face, he clearly wasn’t paying attention to Saruman. Then, he lifted something from his lap. Zahra was on her feet at once, staring. The thing was wrapped in tanned hide. She knew what it was at once. 

 

“What is that?” Elrond asked, frowning. He reached forward to pull back the hide but paused when his mother-in-law spoke. 

 

“A relic of Mordor,” Lady Galadriel said. Elrond hesitated then flipped open the hide. Even Saruman frowned upon seeing the revealed blade. 

 

“A Morgul Blade,” Elrond said, stepping back. 

 

“It was made for the Witchking of Angmar,” Galadriel said coming forward, “and buried with him. When Angmar fell, the Men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it in the High Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried him, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light.”

 

“This is not possible,” Elrond said, leaning on the table. “A powerful spell lies upon those tombs. They cannot be opened.” He wanted to believe that badly, Zahra could tell. But she knew he was wasting his breath. 

 

“What proof do we have that this weapon came from Angmar’s grave?” Saruman asked. 

 

Gandalf replied in a hoarse voice, “I have none.”

 

“Because there is none,” Saruman replied. “Let us examine what we know. A single orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen. A dagger from a bygone age has been found. And a human sorcerer who calls himself ‘The Necromancer’ has taken up residence in a ruined fortress. It’s not so very much after all.”

 

Zahra had to speak. “Just because it seems like a bunch of coincidences to you, doesn’t mean that they aren’t connected.” Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel looked to her. Gandalf closed his eyes. Saruman turned to her. “There is something wrong on this planet,” she continued. “Do not blind yourself to it just because you are afraid.”

 

“Afraid? Me? Why should I be afraid? And what do you know of these matters? You’re a child,” Saruman said dismissively. 

 

She opened her mouth to reply but stopped herself when she caught the lady’s eye. Galadriel shook her head slightly and Zahra took the hint. She backed down, leaning against the archway once more. 

 

“The question of this Dwarvish Company, however, troubles me deeply,” Saruman continued as if she hadn’t interrupted at all. “I’m not convinced, Gandalf. I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they’d come to me, I might have spared them this disappointment. I do not pretend to understand your reason for raising their hopes.” 

 

Zahra turned away, for something had suddenly caught her attention. She might not be able to sense much outside of Rivendell, but within it, she could feel the presence of all its inhabitants. And what she could not feel right now, was the presence of thirteen dwarves and one Hobbit. Something that was confirmed when Lindir hurried into the courtyard. 

 

“My lord Elrond,” he said, looking a little panicked. “The dwarves, they’re gone.”

 

“What do you mean, gone?” Zahra asked standing straight. Was this panic she felt? Why? She turned to Gandalf, who didn’t look the least bit surprised. “You knew?”

 

He looked briefly amused. He merely shrugged. Lord Elrond followed Lindir out and Saruman got to his feet. “Oh well,” the old wizard said. “Nothing else for it.” He shot Gandalf a glare and strolled out of sight. 

 

Zahra gave Gandalf an angry look and followed after Elrond and Lindir. Sure enough, the rooms the dwarves and Bilbo had occupied were empty. The beds were a tasseled mess, the broken furniture was strewn about, and the remnants of last night’s fire were cold on the floor. She felt her temper flare and a vase on a table shattered. Both elves looked at her. “Sorry,” she muttered and strode away. In her room, she pulled on her robe, grabbed her pack and hurried back to where she’d left Gandalf. She was going to grab that old man and make him take her to the dwarves! 

 

But he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He was speaking quietly with Lady Galadriel. Zahra paused outside the entrance and listened. 

 

“You will follow them,” the elf said. 

 

“Yes,” Gandalf replied simply. 

 

“You are right to help Thorin Oakenshield,” she continued. “But I fear this quest has set in motion forces we do not yet understand. The riddle of the Morgul Blade must be answered. Something moves in the shadows unseen, hidden from our sight. It will not show itself. Not yet. But everyday it grows in strength. You must be careful.” Gandalf had started away when she called after him. “Mithrandir? Why the Halfling? And the girl?”

 

Gandalf looked back and said, “I do not know. Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that it is not what I have found. I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins and Zahra Rivers? Perhaps it is because I’m afraid, and they give me courage.”

 

“Do not be afraid, Mithrandir. You are not alone.”

 

Zahra turned away and then headed back the way she’d come, the last of her anger melting away as Gandalf’s words echoed in her ears. 

 

“And you will go with Gandalf?” a voice said from behind her. Zahra turned. Standing in an alcove was Lady Galadriel. How had she gotten there so fast? 

 

“I will.” 

 

“May I ask why?” Galadriel asked. 

 

Zahra swallowed and glanced ahead. Haldir and his brothers had appeared. Galadriel moved around her and went to her guards. All four looked at her and waited for her answer. 

 

Zahra shrugged. “I want to go home,” she said. “And they’re my friends. What other reasons do I need?”

 

Galadriel smiled. “None. We shall meet again one day, Zahra Rivers. Until then, farewell.” The elves turned and were gone. 

 

Zahra was alone once more. 

 

*

 

“Are you very angry with me?” Gandalf asked her a little while later. He had his hat on, his staff in hand. Zahra looked up. 

 

“I was,” she replied, ignoring Elrond, his sons and Lindir who stood clumped behind the wizard. “Not anymore.” 

 

“I told the dwarves to wait for us in the mountains. We’re less than a day behind them. We’ll catch up in due time,” Gandalf said. 

 

Zahra stood and shouldered her pack. “I know,” she said. She bowed to the elves and set off, with Gandalf right behind her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra and Gandalf find the Company and a battle ensues.

It soon became apparent once they’d reached the mountains, passing through a heavy thunderstorm, that Thorin had ignored Gandalf’s order to wait for them. Gandalf grumbled to himself, occasionally assuring Zahra that he told them to wait, and that they should have. “Perhaps something happened?”

 

“Or Thorin just ignored you,” Zahra replied. “When has Thorin Oakenshield ever listened to what you said?” 

 

Gandalf had no answer to that. 

 

*

 

“I fear they’ve been taken by goblins,” Gandalf said. They’d come across a cave and both Zahra and Gandalf sensed something wrong. 

 

“Goblins? Are they like orcs?” she asked, stepping silently around the cave. She ran a hand over the wall, and then down along the floor. 

 

“Cousins, you might say,” Gandalf said, watching her. 

 

“A seam in the rock,” she reported. 

 

Gandalf nodded. “As I thought, this is a goblin trap. The floor falls away beneath the feet of unsuspecting travelers who only wished for a rest. Soon, they find themselves in the stinking grasp of goblins as their next meal. Well, come along, I know another way in.”

 

“In where?” Zahra asked, following him out of the cave and along the path. 

 

“Into Goblin Town,” Gandalf answered, leading the way. 

 

*

 

It took over a day to reach the far side of the mountain, and here, Gandalf paused outside another entrance into the mountain. “Here we are.”

 

“Okay, well let’s go get them!” Zahra started forward, but Gandalf stopped her. 

 

“I’m afraid you cannot go in, my dear,” he said. 

 

She blinked up at him, mouth open. “What?” she said. “Are you crazy? Of course I’m going in! Gandalf, you can’t keep me out of this!”

 

“I must. You must wait here,” Gandalf said. He was more serious than Zahra had ever seen him. 

 

“Fine,” she said. She looked up. It was well past noon, and she sighed. “You have until sunset, and then I’m coming in after you.”

 

He smiled. “Deal. Until later then!” And he disappeared inside. 

 

Zahra sighed heavily, moved over to a stump and sat, staring at the hole in the mountain. 

 

*

 

The day passed slowly. She slept a little, ate a little, and drank a little water. And still, no one emerged from the mountain. The sun was drawing closer to the horizon. As soon as it touched the earth, she stood. But she’d barely made it a step before the thunder of hurried footsteps echoed to her ears from the mountain. They burst from the mountain, the dwarves and Gandalf. 

 

“Finally!” she cried, and as they reached her, most looking relieved to see her, others too preoccupied with running to care, she turned and began to run alongside them. “What happened?” she yelled. 

 

“Goblins!” Kilí shouted back. 

 

They ran down the mountainside, as the sun brushed the horizon more and more. As they drew to a stop, completely winded, Gandalf began to count, excluding himself and Zahra. “And Bombur. That makes thirteen,” he finished. And looked around. “Where’s Bilbo?” he asked. Zahra’s heart froze in her chest. “Where is our hobbit?” No one answered. “Where is our hobbit?” Gandalf demanded. 

 

“Curse that Halfling! Now he’s lost?” Dwalin shouted.

 

“I thought he was with Dori!” Gloin said. 

 

“Don’t blame me,” Dori said.

 

“Where did you last see him?” Gandalf asked.

 

“I think I saw him slip away when they first collared us,” Nori said.

 

“And what happened, exactly?” Gandalf said. “Tell me!”

 

“I’ll tell you what happened!” Thorin said. “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He’s been thinking of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone.”

 

Zahra strode right up to Thorin and slapped him across his face. It hurt her hand and did little more than surprise him, but he shut up. No one moved. No one spoke. 

 

“Don’t you dare speak about Bilbo like that! He’s much braver than you give him credit for. And if he did go home, so what? At least he has a home to go back to. None of us can claim the same,” she said. Thorin looked up at her, his surprise morphing into anger. 

 

“He’s gone, girl,” he said.

 

Everyone looked at one another, realizing the truth of their king’s words, but Zahra and Thorin glared daggers at one another. She would not waver, she told herself. She would not. She believed in Bilbo, even if none of them did. 

 

“No. He isn’t,” a voice said.

 

Elation filled her eyes, surprising Thorin again, but she ignored him to spin around and saw Bilbo stepping out from between two trees. 

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said, sounding relieved.

 

“Bilbo!” she shot forward and dropped to one knee, wrapping him in a big hug. Sighs of relief issued from several dwarves behind her. 

 

“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life,” Gandalf continued. Zahra released the Hobbit, ruffled his curly hair and stood up and back so everyone could see him. 

 

“Bilbo. We’d given you up,” Kilí said.

 

“How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Filí asked. 

 

“How, indeed,” Dwalin said. Zahra looked around. He and Thorin were watching Bilbo with interest and not a little suspicion. 

 

Bilbo laughed nervously and patted his vest. It might have been a trick of the setting sun, but Zahra was sure she saw the Hobbit slip something into his pocket.

 

“Well, what does it matter? He’s back,” Gandalf said. She looked up at him and he looked back. He’d seen it too. Looking back down at Bilbo, Zahra wondered what the Hobbit had found in the mountain. 

 

“It matters,” Thorin said. “I want to know. Why did you come back?”

 

Bilbo looked at Thorin and said, “Look, I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you’re right. I often think of Bag-End. I miss my books. And my armchair, and my garden. See, that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, because you don’t have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.”

 

Pride swelled in Zahra’s breast. Bilbo’s words had a deep effect on the dwarves. Even Gandalf looked moved. She certainly was. She put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and smiled down at him with affection. He smiled back.

 

A howl in the distance had them all jerking around. 

 

“Out of the frying pan,” Thorin muttered. 

 

“And into the fire,” Gandalf finished. “Run. Run!”

 

They ran. 

 

Further down the mountain, dodging trees, rocks, and low branches, the wargs gaining on them with each step. Zahra looked behind her. They were too close. A warg landed in front of Bilbo and he pulled his sword and stabbed it between the eyes as it lunged for him. Shouting in front of her that she couldn’t hear, and looking ahead again she saw the dwarves and Gandalf climbing up trees as they closed in on a ledge. Had they continued to run, they would have run right over the edge. Bilbo tried to pull his sword free but was unsuccessful. She rushed over, pulled it out and propelled him to the trees. They made it up just as the wargs reached them. 

 

They were caught. Trapped. Zahra looked around. Had she found them again, only to lose them? She looked down. She let out a breath and closed her eyes, slowing her breathing, her heartbeat, and her thoughts. She emptied herself of all feeling, letting only peace remain. The Force flowed through her, boosting her strength, giving her a clear purpose. She would not lose them again. Not now. She stood on her branch, ignoring the shouts that told her to stay down. She pulled her lightsaber hilt free from her belt. The time for caution was over. The time to fight was at hand. 

 

With a snap-hiss and gasps all around, the green blade of her lightsaber ignited. With one force-fueled leap, she somersaulted from the tree, arching over the heads of the wargs and landed in a crouch. She threw off her pack and stood. The wargs turned from the trees and evaluated her. With fierce snarls, the shouts of her friends ringing in her ears, the hum of the lightsaber a symphonic accompaniment, the wargs attacked. 

 

She breathed in. She breathed out. And then she began to dance. That’s what it always felt like, fighting with her lightsaber. Dancing. Each move was fluid and led into another. Her mind worked quickly, the Force reading the moves of her enemies before they happened, and she took them out one by one. Her movements became too quick to track, and she knew she would look like a blur of shadow and green light to her friends. 

 

Then a shadowy presence appeared behind her and she turned. A large pale orc astride a white warg looked down at her, sneering. He looked up, and Zahra felt the disbelief radiating from the others explode. 

 

The orc spoke, but of course she couldn’t understand. But Thorin she could understand. “Azog,” he breathed. The fear in his voice scared her. “It cannot be.”

 

The orc smiled. He spoke again, pointing with his club. More attacked. Several wargs broke from the others and attacked the trees, which began to tilt. Some launched themselves at her, but they were quickly struck down. An orc swiped his sword at her head. Her lightsaber was up, slicing the blade in two easily, then she cut off his head. They were no match for her. Yells behind her and a great tearing sound and she knew the trees were falling. She looked around. The dwarves were leaping one by one into the final tree at the end of the ledge, the one Gandalf was in. How long could that tree hold them all? Probably not long. 

 

The wargs were crowded around the bottom, clawing at it, jumping up the trunk. Suddenly balls of fire began to rain down. A closer look showed her they were flaming pinecones. Gandalf. She grinned as she stabbed the lightsaber through an orc’s chest. She leaped over the flames, held out a hand and her pack launched into it. Now there was a wall of fire between the orcs and wargs and she and her friends. And at their backs was a ledge. How the hell were they going to get out of this?

 

It seemed victory was at hand. Wargs ran from the flames, one on fire. Everyone was cheering. Then the tree began to fall, and it dangled out over the open air. Should anyone fall it would mean certain death. She shouldered her pack and began to run, the familiar hum of her lightsaber the only comfort. Ori and Dori were barely hanging on, Ori hanging from his brother’s boot. Dori slipped, calling out to Gandalf, and the wizard caught them with his staff. Dori grabbed it, holding on for dear life. 

 

She saw Thorin stand. Someone shouted out to him, but Thorin didn’t seem to hear him. He drew his sword and began to run down the trunk. 

 

“What are you doing?” she shouted. 

 

He didn’t answer. He ran past her, and through the flame. She called after him, but could only watch as he tried to attack the pale orc. He was thrown aside, bitten and thoroughly beaten down. The orc spoke. She watched, feeling helpless, until determination coursed through her like fire. Narrowing her gaze, she started to run forward. Bilbo appeared at her side, his little sword drawn. They jumped across the fire. Bilbo killed the orc that had dismounted and stood above Thorin to take his head. Zahra killed the warg. Together, side by side, Bilbo and Zahra defended the fallen king. 

 

“You will not touch him,” she spat. 

 

The pale orc growled again. Then the rest of the dwarves were there, attacking. She glared at the pale orc, daring him to make a move.

 

A shout and Dori and Ori fell. The loud shriek of a large bird echoed through the sky. She turned and saw the two dwarves looking minuscule on the giant bird’s back, flying off. More birds came through, taking out wargs and orcs, picking up dwarves and flying off. Thorin was taken up, sword and all. Only his oak branch shield was left behind. 

 

Gandalf, again. Zahra smiled. She locked gazes with the pale orc, Azog. He spoke to her. Even if she couldn’t understand, she knew it was a threat. She grinned at him, feral. “Come and get me, scum.”

 

She deactivated her lightsaber, hung it back on her belt, picked Bilbo up, and grabbed Thorin’s shield. With a running start, she leaped off the side of the ledge. A shriek from another bird and she landed on something that was both soft and hard. She looked up. They were on the back of one of the birds. The golden brown feathers gave a soft cushion to them. She released Bilbo and looked over the side of the bird. A quick scan through the Force and she knew that all her friends were safe. She leaned back against her pack on the bird. To Bilbo, she said, “Wake me when we’re about to land,” and then promptly fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company makes it to the top of the Carrock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing this, I originally divided the story into three parts, one for each movie, and this was the last chapter of part one. But I won't divide it into three on here, so after this will be chapter sixteen, though, for my own records, Part Two, Chapter One. But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!

Zahra was shaken awake several hours later. Was it the next day? The same day? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She sat up and twisted around. Bilbo looked worried. 

 

“Thorin?” she asked. 

 

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

 

She put a hand on his shoulder. The giant bird flew toward a towering, freestanding rock jutting up miles and miles into the sky. They slipped from its back. Thorin was already there with Gandalf. The wizard was bent over him, as dwarf after dwarf slid from the backs of their own giant birds. They hurried forward toward their king, but Zahra and Bilbo hung back. Gandalf whispered something, and Thorin’s eyes fluttered open.

 

Relief filled the air, some of the tension easing away. Then Thorin spoke. “The girl? The Halfling?”

 

“It’s alright. Bilbo and Zahra are here. They’re quite safe,” Gandalf assured him. Thorin got to his feet with aide from his nephews and Dwalin. He shrugged them off and looked around seeing them standing apart from the others. Bilbo tensed. Zahra gulped, Thorin’s shield hanging from her left hand. 

 

“You!” he said. “Both of you! What were you doing? You nearly got yourselves killed!”

 

“Well,” Zahra said, looking out at the mountains surrounding them. “We didn’t.” Everyone was watching them. It was a bit embarrassing. 

 

“Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the Wild? That having a child on our quest was a bad idea?” Thorin asked, rhetorically, moving forward with each question. Zahra looked at him, his blue eyes tracking between her and Bilbo, back and forth. “That you had no place amongst us?” Bilbo looked down. Zahra was thinking about slapping Thorin again until he said, “I have never been so wrong in all my life.” Then he grabbed them both in a hug, one arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, the other around her waist. 

 

They were shocked, that was for certain. But Bilbo soon relaxed and laughed a little. Zahra looked around with eyes wide. Gandalf smiled at them all. The dwarves cheered and clapped. And Zahra relaxed. She put her right hand on Thorin’s shoulder, patting it a little awkwardly, before Thorin released them. 

 

“I am sorry I doubted you. Both of you,” Thorin said, looking between them. 

 

“No, I would have doubted me too,” Bilbo said. “I’m not a hero or a warrior. I’m not even a burglar.” Everyone chuckled. 

 

Zahra smiled. She held Thorin’s shield out to him. “Just stop being so stubborn all the time.” Thorin took the oak-branch shield from her and smiled back. 

 

The giant birds flew off, and Thorin looked beyond them, and his smile turned to long-buried wonder. She turned. There, in the distance, was a shadow of a mountain. 

 

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo asked. Everyone moved to the edge of the Carrock and looked out at it. 

 

“Erebor,” Gandalf proclaimed, “the Lonely Mountain, the last of the great Dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth.”

 

“Our home,” Thorin said. 

 

A (much smaller) bird chirped overhead and they looked up. “A raven!” Oin said. “The birds are returning to the mountain.”

 

“That, my dear Oin, is a thrush,” Gandalf said. 

 

“But we’ll take it as a sign,” Thorin said. For the first time he sounded hopeful, Zahra realized. “A good omen.”

 

“You’re right,” Bilbo agreed. “I do believe the worst is behind us.”

 

Zahra smiled again, but could not quite share in their optimism. A foreboding creeped over her, filling her with dread. The worst was not behind them. 

 

The worst had yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't post anymore today, so I hope you guys liked these seven chapters!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra and Thorin have a conversation, and the Company arrives at a mysterious house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, mainly because of all the dialogue. It's the transition between the first and second movie, mostly, plus we learn a little more about Zahra. 
> 
> But not much. :)

That night on the Carrock, Zahra had trouble sleeping. Not surprising, really, given her track record thus far with sleep. Ever since her master had gone missing, sleep had been a constant enemy, tormenting her with its elusiveness. She stared at the star-filled sky above her. She was bundled between Filí on one side and Kilí on the other. The rest of the dwarves were spread out around them. Bilbo was curled into a tight ball above her head, and Gandalf was leaning against a rock, head bent in sleep. She sighed and rolled onto her side, the hard rock beneath digging into her muscles.

 

After several long minutes, she gave up. Zahra got to her feet and picked her way through her friends’ sleeping bodies and to the edge of the Carrock, looking back the way they’d come. It wasn’t the Jedi way to hold on to the past, but she was still a Padawan. All she could do was hold on to the past. Her Master had been taken, by who she didn’t know. That had been the problem. No one had known what had happened to her Master. She was gone, vanished. But it had been obvious. The dark side was involved. A new Sith, a new threat. Everyone had been so caught up in this knowledge that no one had bothered to look for Master Danai. Well, that wasn’t fair. They’d looked, just not intensely enough for Zahra. So, she’d taken the Falcon and gone in search of her Master herself.

 

And here she was.

 

She sighed and put her chin on her knees. Would she ever get back? Would she find her Master? Would she ever see anyone again? _Master_ , she thought. _Ben…_

 

“Can’t sleep?”

 

Zahra looked up. “Thorin,” she said. “No, I can’t.”

 

He sat beside her. They didn’t speak for a while. “I’m sorry,” he said later.

 

She glanced at him. “For?”

 

He sighed. “For everything,” he said. “How I’ve been with you. With Master Baggins too.”

 

“Apology accepted,” she said. He looked startled. “What? Did you expect me to hold a grudge or something? You apologized. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed. And, if I’m being honest, I haven’t exactly been nice to you either. I’m sorry for that. And for slapping you.”

 

He smiled. “Apology accepted.”

 

The silence between them this time wasn’t uncomfortable. Zahra felt a little of her constant tension leave her body.

 

“So are we going to talk about it?” Thorin asked.

 

“About what?” she asked, feigning cluelessness.

 

He shot her a look. “About that blade you carry. About your fighting skills. About how you killed those wargs and orcs.”

 

“Oh. That.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “What do you want to know?”

 

“What is that blade you carry?”

 

“It’s called a lightsaber. It’s a Jedi’s weapon. Elegant, yet deadly.”

 

“So all Jedi carry one?”

 

“Yes. Not all of them are green. Some are blue or yellow, a few are even purple.”

 

“No other colors?”

 

“There are some lightsabers that are red, but their wielders are not Jedi.”

 

“What are they?”

 

“Sith.”

 

“What’s a Sith?”

 

“Not a Jedi,” she replied elusively, hoping he would drop it. He did.

 

Thorin looked out over the valley below them, the mountains beyond, the stars that were beginning to twinkle out as dawn approached.

 

“Did you sleep at all?”

 

“A little tonight,” she answered truthfully. “Some when those giant birds were carrying us away from the orcs.”

 

“They’re eagles,” he said. “You slept on one? While it was flying?”

 

“It was as good a place as any to catch some sleep,” she said with a shrug. He chuckled.

 

“You fought with amazing skill,” he said abruptly, going back to the earlier topic.

 

She shrugged. “I had a good mentor.”

 

He said nothing. They were silent again for some time, before he asked, “What is your father like?”

 

“So I did compare you to him,” Zahra said, closing her eyes in muted agony. “I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t fair.”

 

“Then he’s not a good father to you?” Thorin asked.

 

She shrugged again. “Depends on what you mean. I have many half-siblings, and he treats them well and lovingly.”

 

“But not you?”

 

“Oh, he’s not cruel,” she said quickly. “Or cold. Just… distant. He’s not affectionate with me the way he is with my siblings. Growing up in his house was… a trial. Every day. When I was seven, I left to be a Jedi. I’ve spent nearly ten years in training, going back to my father’s house every few years. I haven’t been back in four years, though.”

 

“Does he love you?” Thorin asked quietly.

 

Zahra had to think about it. “I don’t know. If he does, he doesn’t show it. Not to me.”

 

Thorin didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Which was just as well. Zahra couldn’t believe she’d admitted that, to anyone, least of all Thorin Oakenshield.

 

“And your siblings? Do you get along with them?” Thorin said.

 

“I have no full-blooded siblings,” she explained. “All of my siblings are half-siblings through my father, and most of them are younger than me, much younger. The only one I’m close to is my eldest brother, who’s seven years older than me. He was my best friend growing up, my great protector. Not that I needed protecting, mind you, but if I did, he was always there for me.” Thorin smiled. “It was hard to leave him when I left to be a Jedi.”

 

“When was the last time you saw him?”

 

“Four years. When I was last at my father’s house.”

 

“And your mother?”

 

Zahra was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“No, I don’t know. I was taken from her when I was born. My father took me.”

 

“Why?” Thorin sounded genuinely perplexed.

 

She shrugged again, looking at her hands in the growing dawn light. “I don’t know.” But she did know. She just didn’t want to tell anyone. Not yet. Let her keep a few secrets to herself. She needed them.

 

Thorin, luckily, didn’t press her, though she could sense his dissatisfaction. The sun was cresting the mountains at their backs now, so Zahra decided to put an end to this pretense. “If you are all going to listen, you might as well get up already. We need to leave soon.”

 

Thorin stood and looked behind them scowling. The rest of the Company was awake and had been for some time, Zahra knew. She stood also and turned to them, hands on her hips in mock agitation. Bilbo uncurled himself and sat up, looking sheepish, as did a few others. Kilí, however, was grinning like he’d just been caught out in the midst of a hilarious prank. He jumped up and bounded over, ignoring his uncle’s fierce scowl of disapproval.

 

“Why haven’t you told us about yourself before?” he asked.

 

Zahra shrugged. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

 

“But aren’t we friends?” Kilí asked, guilelessly.

 

“Of course, but I won’t be here long. I’m just…passing through. Just a blip in your life. Here one moment, gone the next,” she replied. “You won’t even miss me when I’m gone.” Everyone looked thunderstruck at her cavalier attitude.

 

“That’s not true!” Kilí cried out, taking hold of her arms. “We will miss you. You’re not a blip! We will notice when you’re gone. Won’t we?” He looked behind him quickly, and then looked back up at Zahra with his wide dark eyes.

 

The others shouted their agreement, and Bilbo looked close to tears at the reminder that Zahra wasn’t going to be there forever.

 

“As I’ve said before, you undervalue yourself, my dear Zahra,” Gandalf said, standing up and leaning on his staff. “You shouldn’t. You mean more to all of us than I think you know. And if your father has a tendency to dismiss you, rest assured that none of us will.”

 

Zahra blinked, fighting the sudden onslaught of tears in her eyes. She smiled a thin, watery smile, and a tear escaped, running down her cheek. She pulled one arm free from Kilí’s grasp and wiped her eyes, sniffing. “Thanks,” she said. Kilí took her hand and swung it back and forth like a child would, in an attempt to comfort her. She laughed.

 

*

 

Zahra was the only one with a pack, and her food supply was low. It was parceled up and divided amongst the company. When everyone was ready, Gandalf led them to a set of steps that had been hewn into the side of the Carrock itself. Zahra could see the tool marks, weathered with age, but still visible. She wondered who had taken the time to do this, since the trip down looked almost endless. It must have taken a long time.

 

The trip down was slow going, and by the time they reached the bottom the sun was setting. They made camp, not daring to light a fire. Zahra curled up between Bilbo and Kilí, using the latter’s shoulder as a pillow. Sleep was easier that night, but still she woke up much earlier than the others. She didn’t move however, sending her senses out through the Force to check their surroundings.

 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been like that when she felt it. Darkness. Far to the east, and yet closing on them from behind. She sat up, startling both the dwarf and Hobbit on either side of her.

 

“Gandalf!” she exclaimed. The wizard sat bolt upright, looking wildly around. The rest of the dwarves began to stir lifting their heads and reaching for weapons.

 

“What is it?” Gandalf asked, standing to join her.

 

“We’re being hunted,” she said. That woke everyone up. They got to their feet quickly and looked around.

 

“From where? Who is it?” Gandalf said, raising his staff.

 

“Azog,” she said, and a chill fell over the Company. “He’s behind us, but closing fast.”

 

“How do you know this?” Thorin asked.

 

How could she explain the Force to them? “I just do,” she said.

 

Gandalf nodded. “Then let’s go. We must fly with all haste! Quickly now!”

 

The sun had not yet risen but it didn’t matter. They set off, running when they could, but mostly climbing over the rocky terrain. Zahra helped when she could, mostly poor Bilbo whose short legs were finding it difficult to keep up, but for the most part, she kept her senses spread wide, using the Force to feel out the safest path.

 

“This way!” she called, leading the Company through a warren of towering boulders. They panted and puffed behind her, but didn’t complain, not even when she picked up the pace, running all the more quickly. She knew she was shocking them again, but didn’t much care. She was tired of pretending. She would keep her secrets, yes, but she would not endanger her friends again. Not if she could help it.

 

*

 

Thorin called a halt when it finally became too dark for them to continue. “We can’t go any farther tonight. Get some rest while you can. No fires!”

 

Zahra found herself between Kilí and Filí again. The night was colder and she was grateful for the extra warmth the dwarves gave off as they huddled close beside her. Tonight, Filí was her pillow, his arm wrapped around her back. She slept easily, waking only when the howl of a warg rent the air.

 

It was still some distance away, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she’d heard it at all, and she knew the others had as well. It was the darkest part of the night, those brief hours before dawn broke, but still, Thorin pushed them on. “Keep going!” he called to them.

 

Zahra moved silently, Filí helping her along when she stumbled. They halted again well into the afternoon, the sky so overcast to make it look like early evening, and Bilbo was sent to get the lay of the land and to judge how close the orc pack was, for the cries of the wargs had gotten closer throughout the day, and now the shouts of their orc riders could occasionally be heard. Zahra wanted to go with him, but she was getting tired. She slumped to the ground, Kilí and Filí on either side of her, rubbing her back with their rough yet gentle hands. She nodded to them, letting them know she was alright, but they didn’t leave her. She closed her eyes, letting the Force fill her up, emptying her mind of all thought and all feeling.

 

Bilbo’s return several long minutes later, jolted her up. She stood, no longer needing Kilí and Filí to hold her up. She had the Force with her. She felt stronger now. More at peace within. She felt the young dwarves watching her, having noticed her sudden change, but they didn’t question it.

 

“How close is the pack?” Thorin demanded.

 

“Too close,” Bilbo panted. “Couple of leagues, no more. But that is not the worst of it.”

 

“Have the wargs picked up our scent?” Dwalin asked.

 

“Not yet. But they will do,” Bilbo said. “We have another problem.”

 

Zahra closed her eyes and immediately began to use the Force to sense their surroundings.

 

“Did they see you?” Gandalf asked. “They saw you.”

 

“What? No, that’s not it,” Bilbo replied, a little exasperated.

 

Gandalf nodded, self-satisfied. “What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material.” Nods and murmurs of appreciation from several of the dwarves, and Zahra finally felt what Bilbo must have seen. She snapped her eyes open.

 

“Will you listen? Will you just listen? I am trying to tell you that there is something else out there,” Bilbo said. The Company grew quiet and Thorin looked like he’d had just about enough. She couldn’t blame him, really.

 

“What form did it take?” Gandalf asked after a moment’s hesitation. “Was it like a bear?”

 

“Ye-Yes,” Bilbo said, surprised. “But bigger. Much bigger.” Gandalf didn’t look at all surprised, and Zahra sighed. He’d known.

 

“You knew about this beast?” Bofur asked, angrily. When Gandalf didn’t answer, the hat-wearing dwarf continued. “I say we double back.”

 

“And be run down by a pack of orcs?” Thorin replied.

 

The dwarves began to argue, before Gandalf interrupted. “There is a house,” he said, “it’s not far from here, where we might take refuge.”

 

“Whose house?” Thorin asked, exasperatedly. He’d clearly begun to have enough of the wizard’s secrecy. “Are they friend or foe?”

 

“Neither,” Gandalf said. “He will help us or…he will kill us.”

 

“Oh that’s nice,” Zahra said snidely.

 

Thorin sighed. “What choice do we have?” At that moment, a howl echoed through the rocks. It didn’t sound like a warg.

 

“None,” Gandalf said. So off they ran again.

 

*

 

The rocks were soon left behind them, and they crossed a stream and then a meadow. “Come on!” Gandalf cried, leading the way. Another stream, and another meadow and trees and they could see it: a copse of trees, and a gate that led to a large house.

 

The wargs were hot on their trail, but even ahead of them was the creature Bilbo had seen, that Zahra could sense gaining on them rapidly. She glanced behind them. They couldn’t see it yet, but its roar echoed through the air and Bombur picked up speed, surpassing everyone as he tried to get away.

 

“In the house!” Gandalf shouted. “Quickly!” They passed the gate and Bombur raced across the yard and slammed against the door. The others crowded around him.

 

Zahra turned back at the gate and watched. The creature burst forth from the trees far behind them. It was savage looking, muscular and huge with a scarred muzzle and amber eyes filled with rage. Its paws looked as big as Gandalf’s head, and its stride was long. She gaped.

 

“Zahra!” Gandalf shouted to her. She looked. The others were in the house already. She ran to them.

 

“Shut the door!” she shouted, and leaped up, landing on the roof of the house, and laying flat on her back. More shouts and she heard the creature slam into the door. She stood, pulled her lightsaber and prepared to jump down to fight it, but when she looked over the edge, she saw the beast ambling away, growling low. It turned suddenly and fixed its amber gaze right on her. She stared back, unflinching. After a moment, it turned and left the yard, heading back for the trees. After a moment, she jumped down and pounded on the door, putting her lightsaber away again. The door opened and she was yanked inside.

 

Everyone shouted at her, scolding her for staying outside. She took it well, nodding and apologizing, before they finally winded down. To Gandalf she said, “Mind telling what that was?”

 

“He says that creature is our host, a skin-changer named Beorn,” Balin explained.

 

Zahra looked at the wizard with raised eyebrows. “And, let me guess, you just conveniently forgot to mention his existence to us?”

 

Gandalf shrugged. “I did not think we would have to stay the night at his house. I was hoping to avoid it. He can be reasoned with, as I told the others, but well….”

 

“He’s still unpredictable?” she guessed, crossing her arms.

 

“He doesn’t like dwarves,” Gloin said.

 

“Well then, we’re dead,” she replied, sitting on a bale of hay. “If he doesn’t like one dwarf, I doubt thirteen of you will make him happy.” She looked around at the animals inside: cows, chickens, goats, horses. Beorn must put them in here so his animal self didn’t kill them.

 

Gandalf frowned at her. “Just let me do the talking, when it comes to it. He might take kindly to us, since we have a child in our company.” He nodded to Zahra as if that statement needed clarification.

 

“So I’m a bargaining chip, now, am I?” Zahra asked, but she didn’t blame him. She’d use herself as a bargaining chip too, if needed.

 

“Hardly, but I will admit your presence will be useful,” Gandalf replied. She smiled wryly and shrugged off her pack, tossing it aside. “All right, now get some sleep. All of you,” he added with a look at Zahra. She leaned back against the hay and wrapped her robe around her. “You’ll be safe in here tonight. I hope.” Zahra looked at him, not liking that ominous statement, but didn’t comment on it.

 

The dwarves finally stopped exploring and hunkered down amongst the hay. Bilbo lay on his side next to Zahra and soon they were all asleep.

 

*

 

She woke well into the night and saw Bilbo lying on his side, propped up on his arm, fiddling with something. “What have you got there?” she whispered.

 

The Hobbit jumped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Just something I found in the goblin tunnels. Go back to sleep, Zahra.”

 

She blinked at him a moment, then closed her eyes and sleep claimed her once more.

 

*

 

She was still the first to awaken the next morning. She lay on her back, staring up at the vast ceiling, the scent of animal dung filling her nose. Gandalf woke next and looked over at her. “Did you sleep, my dear?”

 

“I did,” she replied, sitting up. To her right, Thorin bolted up. “It’s okay,” she told him. “We’re fine. No one’s attacked us, yet.”

 

He laughed. “Yet?”

 

She smiled and shrugged. “It’s still early.”

 

Suddenly a sound came from outside. “What’s that?” she asked, getting to her feet.

 

“Sounds like someone’s chopping wood,” Gandalf said, rising too. “I believe that is our host.”

 

“Our unwitting host, you mean, who probably doesn’t know we’re here.”

 

Gandalf shot her a glare.

 

The rest of the dwarves began to wake up and they all began to crowd around the back door, arguing, as per usual. Bilbo was the last to join them, shrugging his coat back on, a large bee buzzing around his head. Zahra watched him closely, his behavior last night coming to mind. What exactly had he found in the goblin tunnels?

 

The dwarves were trying to decide what to do.

 

“Well, I say we should leg it,” Nori said. “Slip out the back way.”

 

Dwalin grabbed the front of Nori’s vest. “I’m not running from anyone, beast or no.”

 

Nori made a move at him, like he would tackle the bald dwarf to the ground, but Gandalf stopped them. “There’s no point in arguing. We cannot pass through the Wilderland without Beorn’s help. We’ll be hunted down before we ever get to the forest.” His words hit them with their truth, and Zahra peered out a window. She could see a tall, bushy-haired shirtless man outside, swinging a huge axe as he chopped wood for his fire. She swallowed. He certainly looked intimidating. And she hadn’t even seen his face yet!

 

Bilbo stepped up. “Ah, Bilbo.” Gandalf said upon seeing him. “There you are. Now, this will require some delicate handling. We must tread very carefully. The last person to have startled him was torn to shreds.” Zahra looked around at that, as did everyone else. “I will go first and—uh, Bilbo?” He gestured the Hobbit over. “You come with me.”

 

Bilbo looked startled. Thorin nodded him forward.

 

“Um. Is this a good idea?” Bilbo asked, even as he moved to the wizard’s side.

 

“Yes, I think so,” Gandalf said.

 

“Me, too,” Zahra said, steeping around Balin and Bombur. “Last night you said I may be useful, so let me be useful.”

 

“Absolutely not!” Thorin said.

 

“It’s too dangerous!” Nori agreed.

 

“Guys, come on. You saw me fight,” she said. “Let me do this.” She looked at Thorin. “Please.”

 

After a long moment, he nodded. “Go,” he said.

 

Gandalf looked grim. “Very well,” he said. “Now, the rest of you, you just wait here, and don’t come out until I give the signal.”

 

“Right,” Bofur nodded. “Wait for the signal.” He was standing on a crate, peering out the window.

 

“And no sudden moves or loud noises, and don’t overcrowd him,” Gandalf instructed. “And only come out in pairs. Right. No, actually, Bombur, um, you count as two, so you should come out alone.” Bombur, holding a half-eaten carrot, nodded. “Remember, wait for the signal.”

 

“The signal. Right,” Bofur said. As Gandalf, Bilbo and Zahra stepped out, she was sure she heard him say, “What signal would that be?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this was a long chapter, I won't be posting anymore today, and won't post again until next weekend at the earliest. Things are going to be moving pretty quickly from here on out, and the chapters may be a bit on the longer side from now on. I hope you all are enjoying this!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra and the Company meet Beorn and they make it to the forest of Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you things were going to be moving quickly, and, even though I wanted to linger at Beorn's (he's a favorite of mine), I couldn't really think of a good reason for them to stay past a couple of days. So they didn't.

Outside, the axe swung down on another block of wood. Gandalf paused, smoothed his hair and started forward slowly. He cleared his throat but didn’t call out. Bilbo voiced what Zahra had already deduced. “You’re nervous.” 

 

Gandalf took a moment to answer. “Nervous? What nonsense.”

 

“You’re certainly keeping your voice low,” Zahra pointed out. Gandalf glared at her. He was definitely nervous. 

 

He paused finally and called out, “Good morning.” Beorn didn’t seem to hear, and Zahra saw, from the corner of her eye, Bilbo step behind Gandalf. “Good morning!” Gandalf tried again, louder.

 

Beorn paused, standing straight. Without turning, he asked over his shoulder in a hoarse, gravelly voice, “Who are you?”

 

“I’m Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey,” the wizard said. He bowed. 

 

Beorn suddenly turned around, setting the axe head between his huge feet. He looked from her to Gandalf. “Never heard of him.”

 

“I’m a Wizard,” Gandalf said after a pause. Zahra crossed her arms. Beorn looked at her again. His eyes were amber, the only true feature he shared with his animal half. Gandalf continued. “Perhaps you’ve heard of my colleague Radagast the Brown. He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwood.”

 

“What do you want?” Beorn asked, showing fangs when he spoke.

 

“Well, simply to thank you for your hospitality,” Gandalf said. “You may have noticed that we took refuge in your lodgings here last night.” He gestured behind him revealing Bilbo to Beorn’s sight. 

 

“Who is this little fellow? And the girl?” Beorn asked, changing his grip on the axe handle. 

 

Bilbo stepped out nervously, waving slightly. “Ah, well this would be Mr. Baggins from the Shire. And Zahra Rivers from, er, elsewhere,” Gandalf introduced. 

 

Elsewhere? Really? She bowed to Beorn, not taking her eyes from him. 

 

“He’s not a dwarf, is he?” Beorn asked. 

 

“Why, no. No, he’s a Hobbit,” Gandalf assured. “A good family and unimpeachable reputation.” Like that mattered when they could get killed any second now. “And Zahra Rivers is a brave and loyal young lady.”

 

“A girl, a Halfling and a Wizard,” Beorn said, relaxing again. “How come you here?” 

 

What followed this question proved to be one of the most absurd and funniest moments of Zahra’s life. As Gandalf attempted to explain to Beorn how they’d arrived at his house, he made somewhat wild gestures with his free hand which, she assumed, Bofur took as the “signal”, for the dwarves began to file out in their family pairings, one after another. With each pair of two or three that exited his house, Beorn grew angrier and angrier, lifting his axe menacingly, as Gandalf, realizing there was no way out of this with dwarves appearing behind him, began to introduce the dwarves to the skin-changer. 

 

Last to exit the house was Thorin, in all his shabby regal finery, standing tall and erect, daring anyone to question his authority. Zahra almost laughed. She’d grown quite relaxed, sitting on a stump off to the side, as the spectacle unfolded before her. Beorn, seeing Thorin, issued an “Ah,” of recognition. After a moment of glowering at everyone, his eyes landed on her again and he slammed the head of the axe into the large tree stump behind him. 

 

“I suspect you are hungry,” he said. To Zahra he said, “Come, little sparrow, I have food for you.”

 

“Little sparrow?” she repeated standing, ignoring the envious looks cast her way as Beorn seemed the most comfortable with her. “What’s a sparrow?”

 

The huge man looked surprised, raising his bushy eyebrows. “It is a bird.”

 

Her eyes widened in surprise. She stared at him. “A what?” she asked faintly. 

 

“A bird,” he repeated. 

 

“Zahra, my dear, are you alright?” Gandalf asked her, coming to her side. 

 

She blinked, memories that had washed over her ebbing away. “Yes. Yes,” she repeated, more loudly. “I’m fine. It’s just, er, well, it’s funny. When I was a child, my brother would call me ‘little bird’. That’s all. It, er, brought back memories.” She sensed sympathy from everyone, but didn’t look at anyone. She couldn’t. 

 

“Where is your brother?” Beorn asked with surprising kindness. 

 

Zahra swallowed against the emotion she felt welling up inside her. “Far away,” she said. He didn’t know exactly how far she meant, but the others did. Bilbo came up beside her and took her hand. She gave his a squeeze. 

 

Beorn nodded and led the way inside. “Come, then, little sparrow. Food will help.”

 

She followed him inside, Bilbo beside her, and the others right behind. 

 

They sat around his huge table, climbing up onto the bench seats. He set out giant honey cakes for them and handed around giant mugs which he then proceeded to fill with milk. Mice skittered around the table, but he didn’t seem to mind, so none of them did either. 

 

“So, you are the one called Oakenshield,” Beorn directed at Thorin, who was leaning against a post. Zahra bit into a honey cake and was immediately transported to heaven. For all his gruff exterior, Beorn was a good cook. “Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?” Zahra looked up at that, then peeked at Thorin from the corner of her eye. She thought he looked a mix of surprised and, wait, was that fear? Thorin Oakenshield, afraid? It seemed unlikely. 

 

“You know of Azog?” Thorin said. “How?”

 

“My people were the first to live in the mountains,” the bear-man explained, “before the orcs came down from the North. The defiler killed most of my family. But some he enslaved.” Zahra noticed a cuff and broken chain hanging from his left wrist. She swallowed her mouthful of honey cake and set it back on her plate. She didn’t feel so hungry now. “Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him.” Zahra looked down, old memories coming to her mind, not as bittersweet as the ones of her brother, but still able to bring tears to her eyes. Tears of a different kind. 

 

“There are others like you?” Bilbo asked. 

 

Beorn filled Ori’s mug with milk. “Once there were many,” he replied. 

 

“And now?”

 

“Now there is only one,” Beorn said with solemnity. 

 

Zahra closed her eyes, and tried to empty her mind, reaching for the Force to calm her raging emotions. 

 

Beorn set the jug of milk aside. “You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn.”

 

“Before Durin’s Day falls. Yes,” Gandalf said as the big man sat in a huge, intricately carved chair beside the wizard. 

 

“You are running out of time,” Beorn said. Then, “Eat, little sparrow. You are too skinny.” All eyes fell on Zahra and she blushed. She picked up her honey cake and took a huge bite. 

 

Gandalf smiled. “Which is why we must go through Mirkwood,” he said, answering Beorn’s earlier statement. 

 

“A darkness lies upon that forest,” Beorn cautioned. “Fell things creep beneath those trees. I would not venture there except in great need.” The dwarves listened in grim silence, taking his words to heart, but determining, Zahra knew, to go with their decided plan anyway. 

 

“We will take the Elven Road,” Gandalf assured the big man. “That path is still safe.” 

 

“‘Safe’?” Beorn repeated. “The Wood Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They are less wise and more dangerous.” 

 

Zahra glanced at Thorin, catching a brief glimpse of his face as he turned away to look out at the rest of the house. He didn’t look happy at all. 

 

“But it matters not,” Beorn added. 

 

Thorin turned. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly. 

 

“These lands are crawling with orcs,” Beorn said. “Their numbers are growing. And you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive.” Thorin’s eyes widened a little. Beorn was right, Zahra thought finishing her cake and reaching for another. They were doomed. The big man stood and ducked beneath a rafter as he moved around the table to Thorin. “I don’t like dwarves. They’re greedy and blind. Blind to the lives they deem lesser than their own.” Bofur shooed a mouse from his arm and Beorn picked it up, holding it in his huge hand as if he would squash it. “But orcs I hate more,” he said, and let the mouse run over his hand. He looked at Thorin. “What do you need?”

 

“Well, horses, for one,” Gandalf said. “Food, water, supplies.” He stood and came around the table the opposite way. “And any help you can give us.”

 

Beorn looked around. “I will help. As long as little sparrow eats another cake.”

 

Zahra paused in her chewing and looked around at the others. Still with a half finished second cake in hand she reached for a third, putting it on her plate. She smiled at them, and Beorn looked satisfied. 

 

They rested for much of the day as Beorn gathered ponies and supplies for them. Later, he led Zahra to a great wooden tub in the back of his house and filled it with warm water for her, setting some water-filled buckets to the side. “I’m afraid I don’t have more to offer you, little sparrow, but I hope this helps you some.” 

 

“Thank you, Beorn,” she said sincerely. Alone, she bathed and dressed in the clothes the elves of Rivendell had given her. The britches were soft and silvery-green in color and the tunic matched it. She put her belt and boots on and retied her long braid. Feeling refreshed she joined the others at the dinner table and ate the vegetable stew set before her. None of the dwarves looked happy to see her in Elven garb, but they didn’t say anything. 

 

The next morning, they set off, climbing up onto ponies, their saddles laden with fresh supplies. She felt a shiver down her spine and knew that they were being watched. Beorn and Gandalf were a little distance away in the forest, speaking quietly together. What they said, she couldn’t hear, but when Gandalf finally rejoined them, he was looking grimmer than usual. They set off, Beorn watching them go, his amber eyes scanning the forest. Zahra wondered if she’d see him again before she left this planet. The journey took most of the day and by the time the Company reached the borders of Mirkwood, it had begun to rain, the sky overcast with dark clouds.

 

Gandalf swung down from his horse and moved to the forest, inspecting trees that were carved to form the pillars of an arch. “The Elven Gate,” he said. “Here lies our path through Mirkwood.”

 

“No sign of the orcs,” Dwalin said. “We have luck on our side.”

 

“Set the ponies loose,” Gandalf said, his eyes elsewhere. “Let them return to their master.”

 

Zahra dismounted and joined Gandalf at the path’s head. There was a stone basin just inside the forest, attached to an Elven statue overgrown with vines. A surge through the Force had her pausing. “I don’t like this,” she murmured. Gandalf didn’t seem to hear her. 

 

“This forest feels sick,” Bilbo said, appearing beside her. “As if a disease lies upon it.”

 

The dark side saturated it. Unlike Rivendell, which had given her nothing but good feelings, this forest seemed to weigh heavily on her, and she hadn’t stepped but a few paces inside it. 

 

“Is there no way around?” Bilbo asked.

 

“Not unless we go two hundred miles north,” Gandalf answered. “Or twice that distance…south.” He moved towards the statue, inspecting it as, behind them, the dwarves dismounted and set about unburdening the ponies.

 

Bilbo put his hand in the pocket of his waistcoat. Zahra, who had been about to follow the wizard deeper into the forest, turned when the Force rippled around her. She glanced back at Bilbo. He had an odd look on his face, one she couldn’t decipher. After a moment of hesitation, she began to follow Gandalf into the forest. She’d taken barely a step when the Force surged once more, this time with the dark side. She stumbled suddenly, falling to her knees, clutching at her chest. What was this? She’d never felt anything like it before. Such… evil.

 

“Zahra!” Kilí exclaimed. Hands were on her then, and she was pulled against Kilí’s chest. “Are you alright?” She blinked her eyes, feeling dazed. The others were crowding around her, asking questions. 

 

Bilbo stood off to the side, a distant look on his face. He shook his head and his eyes focused on her, widening to see her on the ground. “What happened?” he asked. 

 

“I’m not sure,” Kilí said. “She just fell to her knees all of a sudden.”

 

She tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m fine, everyone. Really,” she added seeing their disbelieving faces. She got to her feet. “See? I’m okay.”

 

Thorin was frowning heavily. “Perhaps you should have stayed at Beorn’s,” he said. 

 

“I’m fine, Thorin. I promise,” she said, trying to unobtrusively lean on Kilí, her hand on his shoulder. She hoped no one noticed how truly shaken she was.

 

He didn’t look convinced, but he was interrupted by Gandalf shouting out, “Not my horse! I need it!” The dwarves were distracted from her thankfully, but then Gandalf’s words hit her and she looked around to see him striding towards his horse as the rest of the ponies pranced away. 

 

“You’re not leaving us?” Bilbo asked. 

 

“Are you?” Zahra asked, hurrying forward on still shaking legs. 

 

Gandalf stopped before them both. “I would not do this unless I had to,” he said. Seeing the near-panic on Zahra’s face, he put his hand on her shoulder. “You are a brave young lady, Zahra Rivers. Trust in yourself.” He started to walk away, then turned back to look at Bilbo. “You’ve changed, Bilbo Baggins. You’re not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire.”

 

Bilbo looked up at him. “I was going to tell you,” he burst out. “I…found something in the goblin tunnels.”

 

Zahra held her breath, waiting. His hand was once more in his waistcoat pocket.

 

“Found what?” Gandalf asked. “What did you find?”

 

“My courage,” Bilbo said after a long moment. His hand left his pocket. 

 

Gandalf’s eyes searched him. “Good. Well, that’s good. You’ll need it.” He left the two of them and went to his horse. “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me,” he added to Thorin as he passed him.

 

The dwarf king-in-exile didn’t look happy about being ordered around. 

 

“This is not the Greenwood of old,” Gandalf continued. “There is a stream in the woods that carries a dark enchantment. Do not touch the water. Cross only by the stone bridge. The very air in the forest is heavy with illusion. It’ll seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.” As he continued to speak, dread began to fill Zahra up from head to toe. “You must stay on the path. Do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again.” 

 

Before he could leave, Zahra hurried over, catching hold of the reins. “Where are you going, Gandalf?” she asked as the dwarves milled about by the forest. 

 

The wizard looked down at her and hesitated. “To the High Fells,” he said. “There is something dark at work here, Zahra. I must discover what is going on. Stay with the Company. You may be going to face down a fire-breathing dragon, but you’ll be safer with them than you would be with me, I feel.”

 

She nodded. “Very well,” she said. “But be careful, Gandalf. Call on Radagast if you need help.” She released the reins.

 

The wizard smiled down at her then wheeled the horse around.”No matter what may come, stay on the path!” he called back to them as he rode away. 

 

“Come on.” Thorin ordered. “We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin’s Day.” There was muttering all around. Zahra stared after Gandalf. “It is our one chance to find the hidden door. Zahra! Come along!” Zahra turned and followed the Company into Mirkwood, feeling like she’d rather be facing whatever resided in the High Fells with Gandalf than entering a forest filled with darkness.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirkwood affects the Company, and Zahra screws up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a short chapter, but I think an important one. Enjoy!

The first day in Mirkwood was easy going. The path was easy to find and follow. But the nights were dark and dank, and frightening. The forest air felt heavy, oppressive. Zahra lagged behind the others, trying to meditate even as she walked, trying to clear her mind of everything but the path before them. 

 

They came across the stone bridge on the second day, only to find it broken in two. Someone, she wasn’t sure who—her thoughts were so befuddled—suggested swimming, but Thorin shot that down, reminding them all of Gandalf’s warning not to touch it. Kilí found some vines and Bilbo was sent across. The others started after before he’d reached the other side.

 

She saw Bilbo slapping his face. They were all acting, she realized, like they were drunk. She laughed, then stopped abruptly. She looked up at the sky, hidden by too many trees. Far too many trees. Why were there so many trees? Oh, right. Forest. They were in a forest. Why were they in a forest, again?

 

“Come along, Zahra!” Balin called over to her. 

 

She blinked. Taking a few steps back, she took a running start and leaped the stream easily. The others gaped at her when she stood up from her crouch. She beamed at them and tripped over a root as she stepped forward, knocking into Filí and falling down on top of him. He was so warm. She laid her head on his chest and sighed. She felt like sleeping, and he would be perfect to use as a pillow. 

 

Her eyes flew wide open and she jerked up and away from a confused looking Filí. Oh no, she thought. This damn forest is working on me too! She looked around and found Thorin and Bilbo staring at something in the trees. She moved forward, seeing a white stag in the woods. Thorin raised his bow, an arrow fitted to it, ready to take the deer down. 

 

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked. 

 

Thorin shot the arrow and missed. The stag darted away into the trees again. 

 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Bilbo said. “It’s bad luck.”

 

“I don’t believe in luck,” Thorin spat. “We make our own luck.” He turned and saw Zahra standing behind them. “What?” he asked harshly. Behind them Bombur fell in the stream, snoring loudly, and the others had to carry him out.

 

Zahra reached over and put her hands on either side of Thorin’s face. “You are so grumpy,” she said, squeezing his cheeks. 

 

“Did you want something?” he asked through his pinched up lips. 

 

She released him. “I don’t remember,” she said. 

 

He grunted and stalked past her. They continued to walk. 

 

Bombur was carried between several of the dwarves. At one point, Nori asked for a rest. Bilbo promptly sat down on a giant root. Zahra leaned on Balin’s shoulder, having trouble keeping her eyes open. “What is that?” Bilbo was saying. “Those voices. Can you hear them?”

 

Thorin looked dizzy (they all did, really), leaning on one propped up knee. He looked around. “I hear nothing,” he said. “No wind. No birds. What hour is it?”

 

“I do not know,” Dwalin answered slowly. “I do not even know what day it is.”

 

Their voices were hypnotic. Lulling and soothing. 

 

“This is taking too long.” Thorin looked up at the trees above. “Is there no end to this accursed forest?” he shouted into the trees. 

 

“None that I can see,” Gloin replied. “Only trees and more trees.”

 

Zahra finally gave up listening. She leaned on a tree and Balin moved away. Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind. She did not know how long she stood there, becoming one with the Force. The dark side was heavy there, but the light had not been driven away completely. She felt it there still, reaching out to her as she reached out to it. She grasped it, let it fill her up. For minutes or hours, it was hard to tell, she communed with the Force, and when she finally opened her eyes again and looked around, she realized, with perfect clarity of thought, that she had screwed up. She was alone and had no idea where her friends were. 

 

*

 

She learned soon that she had been alone for hours. She tracked the Force trails of the Company and when she finally came across them, she found them surrounded by Elves. She ducked behind a tree and did a quick count. The dwarves were there. Bilbo wasn’t. Looking back over, she saw the Elves lead the dwarves away, farther into the forest, into a slightly more pleasant venue. She trailed them, feeling for Bilbo among the trees, but catching no hint of him anywhere. 

 

She bit her lip as she moved, cloaking herself with the Force. Her foot stepped on a fallen twig and she cursed her rotten luck as dozens of pairs of eyes swiveled around to look in her direction. Moving with Force speed she leaped up into a tree before they could find her. The keen eyes of the elves searched the forest floor and she looked down at them like the “little bird” she was. 

 

Finding nothing, they moved on. Staying to the trees, she followed them. They crossed a stone bridge (one that hadn’t been broken, she noted) and into the trunk of a giant tree. Maybe several trees? She couldn’t be sure. Zahra watched her friends disappear inside and took a moment to gather her thoughts. What should she do? She couldn’t just barge in, lightsaber blazing. No, she had to be smart about this. And where was Bilbo? 

 

She saw one of the elves, a tall male with silvery-blonde hair, turn back to look out over the bridge. Did he sense her? She looked closer. He was carrying Thorin’s Elven sword! So the dwarves had had their weapons confiscated. Made sense, if they were prisoners. 

 

“Oh, great,” she muttered to herself as the elf disappeared inside and two guards closed the gate, “am I going to have to stage a breakout?” Well, if she had to, she had to. But maybe she could ask for them to be released instead? Asking never hurt, did it?  
Yeah, she was screwed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra meets the Elven King of Mirkwood. It does not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. I loved writing for Thranduil; he's just so cocky! LOL. I hope you guys enjoy this! 
> 
> Also, another long chapter, sorry!

She ate a small lunch and drank a little water (no point facing certain death on an empty stomach). Then she was ready. Dropping down from her tree, she strolled casually down from the path and across the bridge. The Elven guards spotted her and drew their swords. At the end of the bridge, she paused and smiled. They looked surprised to see a human girl, but they didn’t lower their weapons.

 

“Hello, there,” she said. She held up her hands showing that they were empty. “My name is Zahra Rivers. I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge. Would that be okay?” The elves glanced at each other. Then one opened the gate and called through it. In less than a minute, several elves were coming through, one of which was the same elf who had paused at the gate. She looked up at them (why were elves so tall?) and smiled uncertainly. He raised a dark eyebrow at her.

 

“I am Legolas,” he said. “Who are you?”

 

“I’m Zahra Rivers. I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge.”

 

“Indeed? This way then,” Legolas said and he turned smartly on his heel and led the way inside.

 

Inside, the Hall of the Elven King was like a great city underground, filled with the trunks and roots of trees far bigger than any she had seen before. More bridges led the way and she looked around, jaw dropping to see the vastness of this enclosed space. She caught Legolas’s eye and snapped her jaw shut. He looked forward again but not before she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eye.

 

She hadn’t known what to expect from this new Elven king. Would he be kind and jovial like Lord Elrond? Or would he be aloof and mysterious like Lady Galadriel? King Thranduil was like neither of them. In fact, her first impression was that he was a pompous, arrogant ass, if indeed a beautiful one.

 

“Father,” Legolas said and Zahra had to hide her surprise, “this girl arrived at our gate a few moments ago. She wishes to speak to you.”

 

“And what could a daughter of Man want with us?” he asked. He was indeed beautiful, with dark brows and silver-blonde hair like his son. He was tall, naturally, and dressed in long robes with an intricate florid pattern. Rings adorned his hands on several fingers, and his crown was ostentatious with antler-shaped tiers jutting upwards. His throne was set up on a high platform (all the better to look down on everyone else from, Zahra thought wryly) and he descended the stairs that led up to it as she paused before him.

 

She smiled. “I want you to release my friends,” she said pleasantly. Which, in retrospect, was probably the wrong thing to say.

 

King Thranduil barked something in Elvish and suddenly her pack was taken from her, and her robe pulled off. She protested but was ignored.

 

“You are in Elven clothes,” Thranduil said, as her pack was upended onto the ground and her things searched through. “Where did you get those?”

 

“They were a gift from the Elves of Rivendell,” she said, crossing her arms.

 

“Really?” he said, raising one dark eyebrow. “And you are the friend of the dwarves I have in my dungeons?”

 

“I am,” she said.

 

One of the elves searching through her things held up a rock. The one Gandalf had left his mark on, she saw. As it caught the light of the lamps all around, the mark glowed.

 

“And a friend to Gandalf the Grey, it seems,” Thranduil continued.

 

“Yep,” she said. He looked at her.

 

“How did you come to meet them?” he asked.

 

Zahra sighed. “Well, that’s kind of a long story.”

 

Thranduil clasped his hands behind his back and stood back. “We have time,” he said.

 

She gritted her teeth. “Fine,” she said. “But I doubt you’ll believe it.”

 

Her story took some time, and, when she was through, the elves present stared at her. “You’re right,” Thranduil said after a long pause. “I don’t believe you.” He turned away and walked to the foot of his throne.

 

Zahra said, “Of course I don’t expect you to believe that, who would? But I do not lie. Every word I said to you was the truth.” She hadn’t, however, mentioned Bilbo. She couldn’t feel his presence anywhere within the city, which meant he hadn’t been captured with the dwarves. Small favors, she thought. If he wasn’t here, then he was safer than any of them.

 

Thranduil turned back to her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And how do I know that you do not lie? You could be lying even now. You could say you do not lie, but that could be a lie in and of itself. Perhaps you are a liar. Perhaps you are not the friend of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Perhaps you serve a darker purpose.”

 

Zahra stared at him mouth open slightly. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?” she asked suddenly. “Serve a darker purpose? Come on! I’m a Jedi, not a Sith! And—wait.” She narrowed her eyes on him in turn. “What darker purpose?”

 

He looked away, to his son, then back to her, eyes moving so quickly, anyone else would have missed it… but not a Jedi.

 

She stepped closer to him, right into his personal space. She’d seen the panic flickering in his eyes. “You know don’t you?” she said. “You can feel it too, can’t you? There is something very wrong on this planet.”

 

He looked down at her. “What would a child such as you know of it?” he asked, just as low, anger filling his gaze.

 

She glared, stepping away from him. “I’m not a child! Why does everyone keep calling me that? For the love of the Force, I’m sixteen! Practically an adult!” At the amused looks on the faces of the adults, she scowled fiercely, doing her best Thorin impersonation. “Stop laughing at me!”

 

Thranduil shared an amused glance with his son.

 

“And I know a great deal,” she added. “I can feel it, here.” She laid a hand over her heart. Thranduil narrowed his eyes yet again. He didn’t believe her. Or, no, he didn’t want to believe her.

 

She sighed. “My friends,” she said. “Will you release them?”

 

“What do you know of this quest?” Thranduil asked.

 

Zahra blinked. What did she know? “Very little, probably,” she answered honestly. “I know that Erebor is the dwarves’ home. That Thorin is the rightful heir to the throne there. I know that a dragon attacked it some years ago and many died, while others fled.” Her glare intensified and she drew herself up to her full tight. “I know that the dwarves came to you for help and you turned them away.” Thranduil’s eyes widened. “I know that all Thorin has ever wanted for all these years, was to retake his homeland and kill that dragon.”

 

“And that’s all?” he asked.

 

“That’s all I need to know,” she said.

 

He smiled coldly. “Then you don’t know the full story,” he said. Zahra swallowed. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to hear this. “I gave Thror jewels, intending for him to fashion a crown from them. And what did he do? He kept them. He mocked me to my face. Why? Because of the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone. He believed it signified his right to rule and that all should pay homage to him. When I came to collect my jewels, he all but laughed in my face. Why did the dragon, Smaug, rein fire and death on Erebor and the City of Dale? Because of the great hoards of gold and jewels in the Halls of the Mountain King! The greed of the dwarves and Thror’s own madness is what drove those people to ruin! When the dragon attacked,” he continued in a quieter voice, “I was leading a great host to march upon their doorstep. I saw that I was not needed, as the dragon had already come. So I left.”

 

She stared up at him, a swirl of emotion in her breast. Finally, she said, “All this animosity, all this ill will, all this _hatred_ …because you didn’t get some jewels back?” She scoffed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You want them? Fine, I’ll get them to you after the dwarves and I retake the mountain. You want them that badly, you can have them!”

 

“You believe Thorin Oakenshield would give them to you freely?” the Elven king asked in disbelief.

 

She shrugged. “Thorin and I haven’t exactly had the steadiest of relationships, but he is my friend. If I ask, he’ll give them to me.” But she wasn’t sure. She was bluffing. From Thranduil’s narrowed gaze, he must have known.

 

“Even if he did, there is still the small matter of the dragon to contend with,” Thranduil said, his voice thick with condescension. “What do you plan to do with it? Kill it?”

 

“How hard can it be?” Zahra replied cockily.

 

Thranduil laughed. He well and truly laughed, startling Legolas and the other Elves present. “You foolish child,” he said. “I should do you a favor and kill you now. It would undoubtedly be an easier death.”

 

The Force flowed through Zahra as she stepped forward menacingly. “Try it and see what happens,” she growled. “I don’t take lightly to being threatened. Thorin tried it when we met, and I didn’t back down. I don’t care if you’re a billion years old! You don’t frighten me.” Thranduil looked shocked, but she didn’t give him a chance to reply. “Who cares about the dragon? I’m sure I’ve faced worse than him.”

 

“Have you?” Thranduil asked. “Most intriguing.”

 

“Will you release my friends or not?” she asked. She was sick and tired of being “intriguing”.

 

He changed the subject again. “What is it you want from the mountain’s halls?” he asked, walking around her, sizing her up. “What has Thorin Oakenshield promised you to buy your loyalty?”

 

She stayed where she was, not giving the elf the satisfaction of seeing her on edge. She stared ahead, the perfect picture of calm and nonchalance. Inside, she was seething. “He hasn’t bought my loyalty,” she said. “And I resent the implication.”

 

“Indeed? So, what, then? You care for him? For his companions and kin?” Thranduil asked.

 

“Why do you care?” she shot back.

 

“I don’t,” he replied. He was in front of her again, and she glared daggers at him.

 

“Yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have asked.”

 

His lip curled. “I do not care what your relationship is with those dwarves, child,” he said.

 

“You make it sound like it’s perverted and dirty. We’re friends. That’s all.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.” She squared her shoulders. “If you must know, Thorin reminds me of my father. If I have any kind of ‘special’ relationship with him, it’s that.”

 

“Of a father and daughter? How quaint.”

 

“Tell me, King Thranduil,” she began conversationally, as if she were talking about the weather. “Are you always an ass, or are you making a special effort in order to rile me up?”

 

He stiffened.

 

“Because, it seems to me, that that’s exactly what you are: an ass!”

 

He lunged at her, but she side-stepped him. “Oh, someone’s got a nasty temper,” she mocked. Then hands seized her from behind and a blade was held under her chin. She looked up at Legolas. “Are you really going to kill an unarmed girl?”

 

“No,” he said. “This is a warning. Don’t insult my father.”

 

“He started it!”

 

“Still. Don’t.” Legolas released her. “Now, answer his question. What are you after in the mountain?”

 

She gritted her teeth, and willed herself to relax. The Force filled her and soothed her… and that’s when she felt it. Felt him. Bilbo. He’d been here the whole time! He was with the dwarves! What—? How—? No. It didn’t matter. They were escaping. That’s all that mattered. She’d have to buy them time.

 

Turning back to Thranduil, she finally answered him. “The underbelly of my ship was damaged when I crash landed on your planet,” she began. “I need some kind of material that can withstand great heat and great cold and won’t disintegrate when entering a planet’s atmosphere or leaving it. Balin, Thorin’s cousin and closest advisor, gave me two options, both of which are in Erebor: Mithril, or dragon scales.” She spread her hands as she named the two choices and then shrugged. “So you see my predicament, right? I have no choice but to go to Erebor if I want any chance of going home again.”

 

Silence met her words. She concentrated her senses on Bilbo and the dwarves. They were moving deeper into the city, downwards. What….? But she trusted Bilbo knew what he was doing.

 

“Dwarves will not part so readily with Mithril,” Thranduil scoffed. “It is second in their affections only to the Arkenstone, and before even gold. You will be forced to slay the dragon for his scales. He will not part with them in any other way but through death.”

 

“Then I guess I’ll just have to slay him,” she said, forcefully.

 

Thranduil smirked at her. “Big words for such a tiny thing,” he said.

 

“Oh, bite me!” she snapped. “I’ve had it up to here”—she slashed a hand at her throat—“with your nonsense and all these questions! Will you release my friends or not?”

 

Thranduil opened his mouth to reply heatedly, but just then, a cry went up. Shouts of Elvish from below them, and Thranduil frowned. He called out in Elvish and footsteps pounded up to them. A tall, red-haired elf-maid, dressed in a guard’s uniform, carrying a bow and quiver of arrows with several daggers strapped across her back, appeared. She cast a brief look at Zahra before she answered the king in Basic. “My lord,” she said, “the dwarves have escaped!”

 

Thranduil immediately turned to Zahra, frowning thunderously, reminding her vividly of Thorin. She doubted either would be flattered by the comparison. “Don’t look at me!” she said. “I was here the whole time! How could I have released them?”

 

“We caught a glimpse of the culprit,” the she-elf said, looking at Zahra with open curiosity. “It looked to be a Halfling.”

 

Zahra closed her eyes as Thranduil asked how the prisoners were escaping. “Through barrels, my lord. They are taking the river to Esgaroth,” the she-elf answered.

 

“After them!” Thranduil instructed. To Zahra, he said, “It seems you forgot to mention your Halfling friend.”

 

She smiled tightly. “It seems so.” She then held out a hand and her pack and robe flew into her grasp from the Elven guards’ hands on the other side of the platform. Shocked expressions lit the faces all around her, which, of course, she ignored. She pulled on the robe and then her pack. Palming her lightsaber, she ignited it, the green blade reflecting in her eyes as she smiled up at Thranduil. “Now, where exactly is this river?”

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and the dwarves escape and Zahra makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is (way) shorter, and the last one for today. Enjoy!

Bilbo had no idea where Zahra was. He had looked over the city’s underground but had only found the keys to the cells, and the dwarves themselves. They’d been ecstatic to see him, even Thorin, a first. He’d had to tell them to be quiet so the guards wouldn’t overhear. He’d let them all out and then they had noticed that he was alone. 

 

“Where is Zahra?” Thorin asked, trying, and failing, to hide his worry. 

 

“I don’t know,” Bilbo answered honestly, shrugging. “I think we may have gotten separated in the forest somehow.”

 

For a few tense moments, the Company silently deliberated on what to do. Finally, Thorin came to a decision that seemed to cost him something to make. Closing his eyes briefly, he opened them to look around. “We can’t stay here,” he said. “Zahra can take care of herself; we’ve all seen her do it. We must leave.” 

 

None of the dwarves looked happy about this, and Bilbo certainly wasn’t, but no one questioned the king-in-exile. Bilbo lead them down into the cellars and put them in the barrels he’d scouted earlier. They’d been reluctant, but one appealing glance to Thorin and the dwarf ordered them into the barrels. 

 

“What do we do now?” Bofur asked sticking his head out of his barrel. All the dwarves had lost their weapons, coats and their outer layers of clothes, but somehow Bofur still had on his ridiculous hat. 

 

“Hold your breath,” Bilbo answered. Then he pulled on the lever and floor tilted sending the barrel-riding dwarves into the river below. Realizing he was alone, with no barrel of his own, Bilbo paced, and tried to think of what to do. He stamped a foot on the floor, walked around it, and jumped up and down. Only when he heard the shouts of the guards did he back up in alarm and the floor tilted again. With a yell, he plummeted down to the river, his last sight of the Elven wine cellars being the red-haired female guard. 

 

“Well done, Master Baggins,” Thorin praised when Bilbo had grabbed onto Nori’s barrel. Bilbo spluttered water and shook his head, waving a hand like it was nothing. 

 

Then, they started down the river. It started inside, but as soon as they reached the outside, the sun blinded the Hobbit for a moment, before they reached the rapids. Elves hurtled out the gate above them, bows ready to fire. Bilbo clung on for dear life, hearing the others shout out. Then a horn sounded. Bilbo looked up. They were nearing another gate, and an elf guard hurried to another lever and closed the gate. 

 

“No!” Thorin shouted, as his barrel hit against it. He tried, fruitlessly, to open it again. 

 

The guards drew their swords, but then one was shot in the back with a black arrow. Orcs erupted out of nowhere attacking, as more elves finally reached the gate and another battle broke out. The dwarves and Bilbo were all but helpless in the river. An orc came down to the water’s edge blade drawn to attack. Bilbo pulled his sword (which he’d taken to calling Sting) from its scabbard and stabbed the orc in the chest. It fell into the water with a splash.

 

Then he heard it. A shout that was like music to his ears. The dwarves heard it too, and all thirteen swiveled their heads around. 

 

It came again. “Bilbo! Thorin! Everyone!” Zahra was racing towards them, a male elf right ahead of her. Her lightsaber was drawn, the green light casting odd shadows on her face and clothes. Seeing their predicament, she shot out a hand and flicked it up. The lever shifted, the gate opened and they were through!

 

“Zahra!” Bilbo shouted before water filled his mouth. He saw a fierce look cross over her face, and she launched herself at the orcs. A tall orc, with metal strips across his face, shouted and motioned for his orcs to attack her. A she-elf got between Zahra and the orcs, fighting them off, killing them. Zahra glanced back briefly before vaulting smoothly over the gate and continuing to run alongside them as the current swept them along. 

 

Bilbo watched her when the turning of the barrel permitted it. She swung her sword, spun and jabbed, jumped and leaped. It was amazing to watch. Even fighting next to elves, she looked elegant. He saw the male elf, whom he recognized as the one who had led the dwarves into the Elven city, glance over at her more than once, clearly impressed with her skill. But soon, the current swept the barrels on, and Bilbo lost sight of her altogether. 

 

But he heard her shout after them, “Don’t worry! I’ll find you!” 

 

Bilbo knew she would. 

 

*

 

Zahra came to a halt as the barrels drifted far too fast for her to keep up. She didn’t dare use the Force to propel her forward. She was far too spent for that. Legolas jogged to her side, the elf-maid, Tauriel, behind him, dragging an orc along. The three of them watched the barrels disappear around a bend in the river, the orcs chasing after them. The dwarves had somehow gotten hold of some weapons in the chaos and were fighting them off when they could. 

 

She sighed. They were far from safe, but at least they were no longer being held prisoner. 

 

“I’m not going back,” she said. She felt the elves look at her. “I’m going after them.”

 

“I know,” Legolas said. He then added something in Elvish which, of course, she didn’t understand, and he smiled at her. “Good luck, child from the stars.”

 

She smiled at little. “You can just call me Zahra,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

 

He nodded. “Zahra.” 

 

She smiled a little more, and then she ran off down the river, eager to catch up to her friends. 

 

*

 

She should have known it would not be so easy. The orcs had gone a different route, when it became apparent that they could not keep up with the current of the river. They’d moved inland, away from it, probably to regroup and decide on another course of action. She knew the current would eventually slow, and when it did, sometime later, she found evidence that the dwarves had come ashore: wet footprints on rock, and then, another set of footprints in mud, bigger and thinner than the dwarves’. A human’s, then. She followed them to a dock. She looked out over the lake. Somewhere out there, her friends were with some strange human, possibly on a boat. She sighed. There was nothing for it. To Laketown, then, she would go.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra makes it Laketown and the Company heads to the Lonely Mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another looooong chapter. 4,444 words long. I thought about dividing it, but since I'm not going to post anymore today, decided to just leave it as it is. It's long because I wanted to move the story along as quickly as I could and get to Erebor. Some fun stuff is coming! I hope you guys enjoy it. 
> 
> Also, thank you all for the kudos and bookmarks and feel free to comment!

Zahra had no idea, however, how she was going to get to Laketown, at first. It took some doing, some scouting along the coastline of the lake, but eventually she found an abandoned boat. “The will of the Force,” she murmured and hopped into it, smiling. She had no need of an oar (there wasn’t one anyway); she stood at its center, and hooked her lightsaber to her belt. Using the Force, she propelled the small boat forward over the lake.

 

Ice floes drifted past her as she went along. She navigated through them with ease, pushing some of the bigger ones aside with the Force when necessary. Time slipped by slowly. She breathed, she meditated, she watched ahead. When the shadow of buildings rose up out of the mist, she slowed the boat, crouching down. She was too exposed, even with the mist to hide her. She heard shouts. Guards. She sighed, lifting the hood of her robe over her head. When she could see them, she lifted a hand and tapped the air. The guards all turned as one and looked the other way. She pushed the boat forward faster and it glided silently right under their noses. She smirked. All too easy.

 

She docked the boat beside a small hovel of a house. A door opened and a small girl, no older than three or four, stepped out. She was dressed in woolly rags, holding a wooden horse and sucking her thumb. She stared with wide, guileless eyes at Zahra.

 

Zahra tilted her hood back a little but didn’t let it fall. She smiled kindly at the child. “Hello,” she said. She held a finger up to her lips. “Shhh! Don’t tell anyone I’m here! Alright?” The girl nodded. Zahra smiled, stepped from the boat, and leaped to the top of the house.

 

Night was falling quickly, but as she looked around, her eyes alighted on a shadow towering distantly over the town. She recognized it at once. She’d seen it a handful of times over the past weeks, growing closer and closer, and there was no mistaking the hulking shape of the Lonely Mountain. They were so close. So close! She had to find the dwarves and Bilbo before they left for Erebor without her!

 

Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, she looked for them. She reached out with the Force, winnowing out the humans, looking for the softly burning lights that were the dwarves and Bilbo. They were on the move again. Away from her.

 

She cursed low and kept going.

 

Soon, she had reached the certain of the town. She had to be much more careful now, as the number of people had swelled. She settled on the roof of a cloth merchant and listened. The dwarves could wait. Here was the perfect opportunity to see how humans lived on this strange planet.

 

The conversation was rather dull and ordinary. It amazed her how similar it was to the worlds in her own galaxy. People greeted friends, gave passive-aggressive comments to enemies, haggled over prices and gossiped about their neighbors. People were the same no matter what world you were on, it seemed. Then, a snatch of conversation caught her attention.

 

She saw a tall, handsome, dark-haired man run up and enter the merchant’s stall. He asked something about a tapestry.

 

“What tapestry you talking about?” the merchant asked in a soft voice.

 

“This one,” the man, Bard was his name, said. Zahra leaned forward a little, listening intently.

 

“They were dwarves, I tell you,” a woman said outside the shop. Zahra tensed. “Appeared out of nowhere. Full beards. Fierce eyes. I’ve never seen the like.” Full beards? Fierce eyes? Yeah, that sounded like her friends, alright.

 

“What are dwarves doing in these parts?” a man asked, curiously.

 

“It’s the prophecy,” an old man spoke up from inside his boat.

 

“What prophecy?” the first man asked.

 

“The prophecy of Durin’s folk,” the old man said.

 

“Prophecy,” she heard Bard whisper. “Prophecy.”

 

She frowned and leaned closer to the edge of the roof.

 

“The old tales will come true,” someone said.

 

“Vast halls of treasure!” another exclaimed in hushed tones. “Silver and gold and jewels beyond measure.”

 

“Can you imagine?” a girl asked.

 

“Can it really be true? Has the lord of silver fountains returned?” another asked.

 

“ _The lord of the silver fountains_ ,” Bard said to himself. “ _The King of carven stone, the King beneath the mountain, shall come into his own! And the bell shall ring in gladness, at the Mountain King’s return, but all shall fail in sadness, and the lake will shine and burn!_ ” Bard took off running.

 

Zahra narrowed her eyes, and stood. The sun was setting, turning the lake to fire and she leaped from roof to roof following Bard. He knew something.

 

She followed him all the way to his house, settling on the roof. A boy’s voice came out of the door. “Da, I tried to stop them!”

 

“How long have they been gone?” Bard asked.

 

She listened as the boy explained that the “head dwarf” (Thorin presumably) had decided to go to the armory for weapons.

 

Zahra didn’t wait for more. She took off, tracking the dwarves and Bilbo. But by the time she reached the armory night had fallen completely and she saw them being led out by a group of guards. People were following, crowding into the small town square in front of the largest building in town. She sighed in exasperation and ran her hands over her face. Just typical.

 

“Get off me! Get off!” Dwalin shouted angrily. He and the others were thrust into the circle the people had created.

 

The doors to the big house opened and a tall, rotund man with lanky ginger hair and a bad comb-over stepped out, dressed in fine furs, followed by a greasy looking man with black hair and a uni-brow with pale sallow skin dressed all in black. “What is the meaning of this?” the fat man asked.

 

“We caught them stealing weapons, sire,” the captain of the guard explained.

 

“Ah. Enemies of the state, eh?” the fat man said.

 

“A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever there was, sire,” his shadow agreed.

 

“Hold your tongue!” Dwalin interjected. “You do not know to whom you speak! This is no common criminal. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!” Thorin stepped forward, patting Dwalin’s shoulder. The seriousness of their expressions coupled with what they’d just been caught doing, almost made Zahra burst out laughing from her perch on a nearby rooftop.

 

The crowd whispered together as Thorin spoke. “We are the Dwarves of Erebor,” he said. “We have come to reclaim our homeland.” Excited whispers erupted from the crowd, and Zahra narrowed her gaze on the man in charge. He was reading the crowd’s mood, it appeared to her. A master politician, then. She sneered. She hated politicians.

 

Thorin continued to speak. “I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor filled with silk and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the North! I would see those days return!” He looked around at the crowd, the people nodding and murmuring in agreement. Zahra smiled. Thorin had a way with words, something she hadn’t figured on. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand. “I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor!” The crowd was cheering now.

 

Then one voice rang out above the cheers, halting them all and freezing Thorin for a moment, before turning around. “Death! That is what you will bring upon us! Dragon fire and ruin,” Bard said, coming forward, the crowd parting for him. “If you waken that beast, it will destroy us all!” His eyes were honest and full of feeling. Zahra did not doubt he believed that would happen. But she wouldn’t let it.

 

Thorin sneered at Bard, before addressing the people again. “You can listen to this naysayer but I promise you this: if we succeed all will share in the wealth of the mountain.” The crowd was chattering and cheering him on. Zahra slipped from her rooftop to stand behind a pair of women. She moved through the crowd, until she was behind the line of guards. “You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!” Thorin shouted holding up his hands to encompass the town in one gesture and everyone cheered again.

 

“Why should we take you at your word, eh?” the greasy man asked. “We know nothing about you. Who here can vouch for your character?”

 

“Me,” Bilbo said, stepping forward after a long minute. “I’ll vouch for him.”

 

“As will I,” Zahra said stepping forward. Eyes from all around fell upon her as she stepped between the guards and slid back her hood. Bard looked at her, curious, and the man in charge on the steps above narrowed his eyes.

 

Bilbo hurried to her side and faced everyone. “We have traveled far with these dwarves through great danger,” he started, “and if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word then he will keep it.”

 

“If he promises a share in the gold, then you can rest assured, you will get it,” Zahra added.

 

The crowd cheered again.

 

“All of you!” Bard exclaimed. “Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?! And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a Mountain King, so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”

 

Thorin turned on Bard, anger and defiance sparking in his eyes. Zahra darted forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and backed down.

 

“Now, now!” the fat man exclaimed. “We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!” Zahra looked sharply back at the fat man, as everyone began accusing Bard for his ancestor’s failings. The fat man caught her eye and his gleeful smirk slid away.

 

“It’s true, sire,” his shadow said. “We all know the story. Arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark.”

 

Bard walked up to Thorin and looked down at him. “You have no right. No right to enter that mountain.”

 

Thorin replied in a whisper. “I have the only right.” He turned and stepped up onto the second to bottom step. “I speak to the Master of the Men of the Lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?”

 

The master said, “I say unto you, welcome! Welcome! And thrice, welcome, King Under the Mountain!” The crowd cheered again and Bard walked away in defeat. Zahra watched him go. She was determined to make it to Erebor, for the dwarves, for Bilbo, for herself. But still, Bard’s words had unsettled her a little. As they were welcomed to Esgaroth, and as her friends welcomed her back, she couldn’t help the small feeling in the pit of her stomach that Bard may not be wrong after all.

 

*

 

That night they were wined and dined in the Master’s own house. Zahra sat apart from the others, the uneasiness she’d been feeling since Bard walked away growing and growing. After midnight, she finally got to her feet, put her hands on her hips and ordered everyone to bed. Several looked as if they wanted to argue, but one look at her face had everyone scurrying about. They’d been offered beds but declined them to sleep, as they had for the entirety of their journey, on the floor, together. She curled up by the hearth, using her pack as her pillow, Bilbo to one side and Filí to the other.

 

She woke the next morning, aching from the cold. She sat up and took out her braid, running her fingers through her long red-gold hair. She grabbed her pack and walked to an adjoining room. She changed out of the clothes the Elves had given her and back into her Jedi attire. As she slapped her belt back on and re-braided her hair, a sense of calm settled over her. Slipping her robe back on, she sighed. This was more like it.

 

She noticed the flashing on her belt, and pulled out the comlink. “Lowbacca,” she said quietly when she answered. “Is something wrong?”

 

She listened to his reply. “What? Really?” She laughed and looked upwards. “I hadn’t noticed,” she said. “Yes, I can sense it now. Oh, Lowie, this is good news! Huh? Oh, we’re almost there. We should reach there by tonight, I think. What?” She paused again. “It is? Wow. I hadn’t realized it was today. I guess I just lost track of time. Well, thanks, I appreciate it.”

 

A knock on the door turned her around. “Zahra? Are you in there? Thorin says it’s time to go,” Kilí said.

 

“Lowie, I have to go! Yes. Yes, I will. See you later.” She slipped the deactivated comlink back into her belt and stepped out. “Good morning, Kilí!”

 

“You seem in a good mood,” he said, grinning.

 

“I have a good feeling about today, that’s all,” she replied, swinging her pack onto her back.

 

“You changed!” he said, noticing her clothes.

 

“Yep.” She looked down at herself. “This just feels better, you know?”

 

He smiled. “I know,” he said. He gestured to his own ill-fitting clothes. “Too bad we didn’t have time to visit a tailor.”

 

She laughed and followed him down the hall to the others, who were wolfing down a small breakfast. She joined them and then they were almost ready. She did a quick head count and noticed Bofur was missing. She found him asleep under the table and shook him awake. He sat up, saying something about ale, and looked around. “Time to go, Bofur,” she said, and hauled him out from under the table.

 

At the boats, they were sent off with too much fanfare and Zahra could honestly say she was glad to be on the road again. Or the lake, as it were. As she settled back against the stern of the boat next to Bilbo, she noticed him fiddling with whatever he had in his pocket. She bit her lip and tried to push aside the dread she felt. Bilbo’s mysterious object, coupled with Bard’s warning last night, was putting her on edge. She closed her eyes and attempted to meditate, but it wasn’t happening. Something would always interrupt her: the splash of the oars, the chatter of her friends on the boat, or the shouts from the others in the other boat. Finally, she gave up and stood.

 

“If you want,” she called out so the dwarves in the other boat could hear her, “I can get us to the other side a lot faster!” Everyone looked at her.

 

“How do you propose to do that, lass?” Dwalin called back. Standing at the prow, Thorin looked back at her.

 

She smiled. “Like this!” She lifted her arms, palms out and waved them upwards. The boats picked up speed and shot across the lake surface. With another wave of a hand, she cleared their path of ice floes and it was smooth sailing. The dwarves and Bilbo cheered her on as their initial shock faded away. Thorin merely smiled.

 

Crossing the lake still took a good chunk of the morning, and then it was back to footing it again. “What happened to you, Zahra?” Kilí asked after they’d been walking for a little while. The others glanced around. “How did you get separated from us?”

 

“It was an accident,” she said. “And it was that damn forest. You know it was messing with our minds, right? Well, me too. I needed to clear my head, so I began to meditate. I’m not sure how long I was there, but when I opened my eyes, you were all gone and I was alone again.” They must have heard something in her voice, for Kilí walked over and took her hand, swinging it with childlike abandon. Filí drifted over and walked along side her. “Well, when I realized you all were gone, I started to track you.”

 

“You? You tracked us?” Dwalin exclaimed.

 

“Of course! It was easy. I found you all when the elves had captured you. I followed you to their city, and I saw you all go in. Then I went up to the gate and asked to see who was in charge.”

 

“You what?!” Thorin whirled around, stunned and angry.

 

“Yes,” she answered evenly. “I spoke to King Thranduil. And let me tell you, I quite agree with your feelings on him. He’s a total ass.”

 

The dwarves laughed long and hearty. She gave them a run down on their conversation, skipping over the whole “relationship with Thorin” part, and then explained how Thranduil had reacted when the dwarves were discovered missing from their cells. “A she-elf called Tauriel reported it,” she said, and felt Kilí’s arm jerk. She chose to ignore it. “Well, I demanded to be taken to the river and that’s when you guys saw me.” She shrugged. “After the current took you, I followed the river and figured you’d found passage to Laketown. I found an abandoned boat and crossed the river. When I got to Laketown, I snuck in, jumping from roof to roof until well, I found you again.”

 

“From roof to roof?” Gloin asked. “Aye, Beorn was right. You are a little sparrow.”

 

She smiled.

 

“You certainly can take care of yourself, lass,” Balin said.

 

She looked around at them all. “Did you ever doubt me?”

 

“No. We did not,” Thorin said. He turned and continued walking. Zahra followed with a spring in her step that hadn’t been there before.

 

At just before midday, they reached the top of a large hill.

 

“So quiet,” Bilbo remarked.

 

“Wasn’t always like this,” Balin replied, coming up beside the Hobbit. Zahra paused beside them. “Once, these slopes were lined with woodlands. The trees were alive with birdsong.”

 

Thorin passed them. “Relax, Master Baggins. We have food, we have tools, and we’re making good time.” Something caught his eye and he rushed forward. Zahra followed and sucked in a breath at what she saw.

 

A city. Or, what remained of a city. Charred structures, crumbling walls, everything overtaken by nature once more. Dale. It was on the other side of a steep valley; a stone bridge ran from it and disappeared into the mists.

 

“What is this place?” Bilbo asked.

 

“It was once the City of Dale,” Balin explained. “Now it is a ruin. The desolation of Smaug.”

 

For the first time, Zahra felt a prickle of fear tied to this unseen beast. If one creature could wreck this much horror, this much desolation, going so far as to push the wildlife far away and leave a waste behind, then what else was it capable of? Could she really slay it?

 

“The sun will soon reach midday,” Thorin said. “We must find the hidden door into the mountain before it sets. This way.”

 

“Wait,” Bilbo said. “Is this the overlook? Gandalf said to meet him here. On no account are we to—.”

 

“Do you see him?” Thorin asked. “We have no time to wait upon the wizard. We’re on our own. Come!” He hurried off.

 

“But—,” Bilbo said. He turned to Zahra. “Gandalf said to wait.”

 

“Bilbo,” she said to him. “I have no doubt that if Gandalf could have gotten here, he would have. We must assume that he is detained. At the very least, whatever task he went to do he has not completed.” She knelt on one knee, putting her face level with his, and put a hand on his shoulder. “You must have faith, Bilbo. He will come when he can.” She offered him a small smile and went after Thorin.

 

*

 

As the day went on, Zahra found herself walking side by side with Thorin. There was much she wanted to ask him, but could find no way to start. And it wasn’t like he would listen, or even answer if he did. The nearer they drew to the mountain, the more intense and short-tempered he became. When they reached the foot of the mountain, they began to look for a way up to wherever the hidden door was.

 

“Anything?” Thorin called out.

 

“Nothing!” Dwalin answered.

 

“If the map is true, the hidden door lies directly above us,” Thorin said.

 

Bilbo spotted the stairs first. They’d been carved into a statue of some dwarven king Zahra didn’t know. “You have keen eyes, Mr. Baggins,” Thorin said.

 

“I’ll meet you all up there,” Zahra said, and used the Force to run on ahead and leap up the mountain side, before they could reply. She found the end of the stairs on a small outcropping that showed…nothing. She looked around. She didn’t see a door. But, if it was hidden, then perhaps she wouldn’t. She sat on the edge of ledge and waited.

 

The sun slid towards the western horizon and eventually, her friends began to pop up from the stairs. When Kilí saw her he grinned hugely. “How did you do that?” he asked.

 

“Jedi training,” she replied with a shrug. He tilted his head.

 

“You certainly surprise us, Zahra.”

 

She smiled and looked away. She knew she probably should have told them about the Force by now, but she didn’t know how. Not even the Jedi fully understood how it worked. It was mostly about feeling, than anything really tangible. Still, perhaps she should.

 

Thorin came up, his face filled with hope and wonder, a look Zahra wasn’t used to seeing on his face. She stood and turned to face the gray stone with the others. Thorin hurried forward. “This must be it!” he said, breathless with excitement and the climb-up the mountain. “The hidden door.” He turned to the others and pulled something from around his neck. A heavy metal key. “Let all those who doubted us, rue this day!” The dwarves cheered and Bilbo laughed.

 

“Right then,” Dwalin said. “We have a key. Which means that somewhere there is a key-hole.” He began to feel along the stone.

 

Thorin looked out at the setting sun. “ _The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole,_ T” he recited.

 

Nori was ordered over and he used a cup and spoon to search. Dwalin began to punch and kick the rock. Nori told him to stop. The sun was setting still.

 

“Break it down!” Thorin ordered. They tried. Their weapons were useless. Zahra’s hand went to her lightsaber and she deliberated. But then Lord Elrond’s words came back to her. S _tand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole._ Her hand fell from her lightsaber. There was no thrush.

 

“It’s no use!” Balin shouted at last. “The door is sealed. It cannot be opened. A powerful magic lies upon it.” Despair filled the Company. The sun fell behind the mountains to the west and was gone.

 

“No!” Thorin moved forward and pulled out the map. “ _The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole._ That is what it says.” Zahra lowered her head. Where was the thrush? “What did we miss?”

 

Thorin walked up to Balin. “What did we miss?” he repeated. “Balin?”

 

“We’ve lost the light,” Balin said, losing hope. “There’s no more to be done. We had but one chance. Come away, lads.” The rest of them were quietly sniffing. They started back down the stairs.

 

“Wait a minute. Where are they going?” Bilbo asked, looking around. “You can’t give up now!”

 

Zahra watched as Thorin looked at the key in his hand and let it fall.

 

She caught it with the Force and it shot into her hand. Thorin looked up at her.

 

“You can’t give up,” she said, bringing the others around. “After all this, after all we’ve been through! You can’t give up! Listen to me. _Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks and the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole!_ ” She stepped closer to Thorin. “Sometimes prophecies must be taken literally, Thorin, down to each detail. Where is the thrush?”

 

He looked at her with something akin to pity. “It’s no use, Zahra. We have failed.” He turned and started after the others, slapping the map into Bilbo’s chest as he passed him.

 

“You can’t give up now,” Bilbo repeated, but was ignored.

 

She watched Thorin go, eyes wide, mouth open, and felt panic start to rise. “No. No. No! You can’t do this! You said you would help me! Thorin! Wait!”

 

But he didn’t come back. A sob escaped her and she turned around wildly. Bilbo was watching her. “It can’t end like this, Bilbo,” she gasped out. “It can’t!” He came over to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She’d sunk to the stone beneath, unbeknownst to her.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 

After a moment, he pulled away and began to go over the map, repeating the words over and over. As he repeated the final part about the “last light of Durin’s Day” something seemed to click in his head. He looked up at the sky and the moon that drifted into view from behind a cloud. Zahra stood again, looking up too, and then they heard a tapping noise. They turned as one and there was the thrush, knocking a snail against the gray stone.

 

Hope kindled in Zahra’s breast. The prophecy was coming true. Bilbo, realizing the same, called after the dwarves. She didn’t listen. She was staring at the stone as the moonlight, the last light of Durin’s Day, danced across the surface of the stone. Bilbo saw it when she did. The light pooled in a crevice where they could see a key-hole. He continued to shout after the dwarves. She looked down at the key in her hand.

 

Then, a broad hand folded over hers. She looked over. Thorin. He nodded to her, took the key and marched to the door.

 

He inserted it, turned it, and then, pausing a moment, he pushed on the stone and it swung inward with a scraping of stone on stone.

 

They were in.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door to the Mountain is open and Zahra finally tells the Company about the Force. Bilbo and Zahra enter the Mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, again, acts as a bridge between action points. I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and feel free to comment.
> 
> This is not beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.

“Erebor,” Thorin whispered, pausing at the entrance. It was almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to actually go in. 

 

Behind him, Balin was sniffling. “Thorin,” the old dwarf said his voice breaking. Words seemed to fail him. 

 

Thorin turned to him with a small smile on his face. He clapped his old friend on the shoulder. Turning back around, Thorin finally stepped in. When he spoke, there was something in his voice that broke Zahra’s heart. She stepped closer to hear better. “I know these walls,” Thorin said. “These halls. This stone.” Zahra saw him reach out and touch the wall in front of him. He ran his thick fingers over it slowly as if afraid it would disappear. 

 

Stepping further in, Thorin continued. “You remember it, Balin. Chambers filled with golden light.” His tone was reverent. 

 

“I remember,” Balin said stepping into Erebor at last. 

 

Nori and Gloin stepped in and Nori turned, pointing at something above the entrance. Bilbo and Zahra were ushered in by Dwalin. Looking up, Zahra saw, carved into the stone, the image of a throne, above which an oval shaped object was etched, rays of light spreading out from them both. 

 

“Herein lies the Seventh Kingdom of Durin’s Folk,” Gloin said, reading the words etched above and below the carving. “May the Heart of the Mountain unite all Dwarves in defense of this home.” Zahra swallowed, overcome with the emotions she could feel in her friends. They’d returned home, and she felt as if she had too. 

 

Beside her, Bilbo looked up at the image. “The Throne of the King,” Balin explained. 

 

“Ah,” Bilbo uttered quietly, nodding. “And what’s that above it?”

 

“The Arkenstone,” Balin explained. 

 

Zahra felt a shudder pass through her. The Arkenstone. The cause of so much death and grief. She closed her eyes, pushing aside the Force, so she couldn’t feel what her friends were feeling. She had to keep a clear head.

 

“Arkenstone,” Bilbo repeated. “And what’s that?”

 

She opened her eyes again. “That, Master Burglar,” Thorin said, turning away from the darkness leading down that he’d been gazing into, to look at Bilbo, “is why you are here.”

 

All the dwarves were looking at Bilbo now, and he looked at them. Then he nodded and looked up at the image of the Throne. She could sense his fear, but he was fighting it hard. She saw him swallow. 

 

“And who’s going with him?” Zahra asked. 

 

“No one,” Thorin said. “He was hired for this purpose. He must do it alone.” There was a gleam in Thorin’s eyes that set Zahra on edge. 

 

“Not bloody likely,” she replied, standing tall. She swung her pack off her back and thrust it into Kilí’s arms. A moment later, her robe joined the pack. “I’m going with him.”

 

“No, Zahra, you can’t!” Bilbo said. 

 

“And why not? I’m a Jedi! Yes, I know that means nothing to you all, not really. But I have the Force on my side.” At their bemused looks, she sighed. She should have told them before know. Uncertainty and, yes, fear, had held her back but the time had come. It was now or never. “How do you think I can do the things I do? How do you think I can fight the way I can? Leap tall distances, jump from roof to roof? Speed the boats along without killing us? It is the Force.” 

 

“And what is this Force?” Thorin asked. 

 

“It’s hard to describe,” she confessed, shifting from foot to foot. Here she was, finally telling them about the Force and, as she’d figured, it was difficult to explain. “It is an energy field. Life creates it and makes it grow; it is a part of all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, it binds the universe together. It is here even now, between you, me, the stone of the mountain, the sky far above, the lake and the people that live there; it’s all around us and within.” She looked around at their blank faces. “I know it’s a lot to take in on short notice,” she continued, “but you must trust me. I do not lie.”

 

“You don’t tell the whole truth either,” Thorin pointed out. 

 

She looked at him. “No, I don’t.”

 

“Why are you just telling us about this now?” Dwalin asked. 

 

“A girl must keep some secrets,” she hedged. “And I figured now was as good a time as any to tell you.”

 

Dwalin snorted, but he didn’t look too angry. 

 

Turning back to Thorin, she said, “I’m going down there with Bilbo. Don’t think to stop me. It will do you no good and just waste time.”

 

Thorin sighed. “Fine. Go.” He waved one hand and looked back into the black beneath.

 

“Right, then,” Balin said. “I’ll lead you down a little ways. Come on, you two.” 

 

Zahra gave the dwarves one last smile and hurried after Bilbo and Balin. 

 

The way was dark, a heavy gloom falling on their shoulders as they descended into the unsettled quiet. Bilbo’s feet scuffed the stone, Balin’s steps were heavy, and Zahra’s were silent. Her sight soon adjusted to the dark, but a Jedi did not need to see to move or fight. The Force was her ally and her guide.

 

As Balin stopped, Bilbo let out a heavy breath. “You want me to find a jewel?” 

 

“A large, white jewel,” Balin said. “Yes.”

 

Zahra stepped past them, her eyes glinting on a distant light. 

 

“That’s it? Only, I imagine there’s quite a few down there,” Bilbo said.

 

“There is only one Arkenstone,” Balin replied, “and you’ll know it when you see it.”

 

“Right,” Bilbo said. 

 

Zahra looked back to see them walking after her, but then Balin stopped. “In truth, lad,” he sighed, “I do not know what you will find down there. You needn’t go if you don’t want to. There’s no dishonor in turning back.”

 

“No, Balin,” Bilbo said. “I promised I would do this, and I think I must try.” Zahra smiled. 

 

Balin looked impressed and he chuckled. “It never ceases to amaze me,” he said still chortling. 

 

“What’s that?” Bilbo asked. 

 

“The courage of Hobbits,” Balin said. Bilbo smiled, though Zahra could see that he didn’t consider himself very courageous at the moment. “Go now, with as much luck as you can muster,” Balin continued. 

 

Bilbo nodded and he and Zahra started forward on their own. She squeezed his shoulder and then they looked back when Balin called after them. “If there is, in fact, a, um, a live dragon down there, don’t waken it.” Then he turned and started back the way they’d come. 

 

Alone, Zahra and Bilbo looked at one another. 

 

“Can we do this?” Bilbo asked her. 

 

“You worry about the Arkenstone,” she said, “if Smaug wakes up, I’ll deal with him.”

 

“Can you kill him?” he asked. The million credit question.

 

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “We’ll find out, I guess, if it comes to that.”

 

“But can we do this?” he repeated. 

 

She looked him square in the eye. “We can do anything we set our minds to.”

 

“Will your Force protect us?” he asked as they started down again. 

 

“It can only guide us,” she said. “I will protect us.” She didn’t think he found that reassuring. In truth, she didn’t either. 

 

*

 

Bilbo didn’t know about this “Force” that Zahra kept mentioning. But he did know about her. If she said she would keep them both safe, he knew she would do everything in her power to do so. He glanced up at her, her red-gold hair turned brown in the dim light, her green eyes darkened with dilated pupils, her face set in a determined expression. She would give it her all. 

 

The farther they went into the halls, the lighter it seemed to grow. Finally, they exited the tunnel-like halls, and looked out into a broad open space. The ceiling was so far above they couldn’t see it. And below… below was a sea of gold. It stretched ahead and behind farther than they could see. Mountains of gold and jewels and pillars of stone reaching far overhead. He felt his jaw drop and heard Zahra gasp. 

 

“Well,” she said, “I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting this.”

 

Bilbo wriggled his nose, a habit he’d had since he was a child. Zahra had once asked him why he did it. When he’d asked if it bothered her, she’d shaken her head and said, “No. I think it’s cute.” He’d blushed brighter than a tomato and she’d laughed and ruffled his hair. 

 

Now, she stepped forward then gasped again. A hand flew to her chest, to where her heart would be, and she fell to one knee, a look of pain crossing her face. “What? What is it?” Bilbo whispered frantically, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the other clutching her arm. 

 

“I can feel him,” she whispered. She looked out over the rolling hills and towering mountains of gold. “Out there. He’s so… vast. Oh, Force, he’s a monster.” She looked wildly around, not quite seeing Bilbo. She grabbed his arm. “So much darkness,” she said. “So much evil.” She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them, glancing around. 

 

“Maybe you should go back,” he suggested. “You heard Balin, there’s no dishonor in going back.”

 

Her eyes focused on him. “No,” she said fiercely. “Don’t be stupid. We’re in this together, Bilbo, we’re a team. We’re going to find that Arkenstone. I’m going to do this and then go home.” Her hand went up to his face. “We can do this, my little friend. Trust in me, trust in yourself, and trust in the Force, if you can.” 

 

He nodded. She stood and held herself straight. She gestured out to the sea of gold. “You search down there,” she said. Then she looked up and Bilbo followed her eyes, noticing, for the first time, the myriad bridges and walk ways far overhead. “I’ll go up there and search from above. And if the dragon stirs… well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes. If it comes.” She looked down at him. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come.”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good luck.”

 

She smiled, but he could see the shadow of fear in her eyes. “Good luck to you, too, Bilbo.” With that, she leaped up and disappeared from Bilbo’s sight. Squaring his shoulders, he hurried down the stairs and stepped cautiously onto the gold. 

 

*

 

Zahra landed on one of the walkways and looked down, her Jedi senses picking up Bilbo instantly. She followed his progress from above. He’d reached the sea of gold and was looking for the Arkenstone. Balin had said it was a large, white jewel. She snorted. Right. A large, white jewel. Easy to find in a place this size with gold and jewels enough to pay an empire’s ransom. Yeah, she figured they’d be down here a while. 

 

Going along the walkway, Zahra scanned the hall. It was easily the size of…what? The Jedi Temple of Coruscant? No, it felt bigger. She passed a pillar. It looked to be as big around as a bantha’s torso. Or… bigger? In the dim lighting, it was hard to really gauge. She gave up trying to determine the size of things and concentrated on the Force. Bilbo was making slow progress. She could tell he was feeling overwhelmed with his task. She didn’t blame him. Stretching out with her feelings, she felt the dwarves on the mountainside, waiting impatiently for news. And, far below, she felt him. The dragon. Smaug. Like she’d said, he was a monster. Not because he was a humongous dragon (though, he was far bigger than she’d imagined) but because he was so filled with darkness. The dark side of the Force permeated this place like the light side had Rivendell. It was different from Mirkwood, which had been corrupted by the dark, yet still the light had clung, the elves standing as a last bastion to fight it. Or, their light did. 

 

She shook her head. Light and Dark, it was so confusing sometimes to talk about it, even to Jedi. They both comprised the Force. But people needed the distinction, as the two sides were used for different things. The light side was used to protect, to calm, to soothe, to stand before others and take the brunt of the fight. The dark side was driven by greed, the need for power, the need to take all that others had for its own. That was what she sensed from this dragon. In truth, it was what she’d sensed on this planet. A growing evil, a greedy corruption that was reaching out and overtaking the land around it. It had started in Mirkwood and it had spread, even before she’d ever gotten here. And here, in the Mountain, it was heavy and depressing, weighing on her shoulders, on her mind, and on her heart. 

 

Zahra paused as she refocused on Bilbo. He was stumbling among the gold. She smiled. He was frightened, but still he would not give up. If only others were more like him, she was sure the universe would be a much better place. 

 

She scanned the world below her. She frowned. Something was moving in the gold. 

 

She stifled a gasp. Oh, crap. Oh, crap. “Smaug,” she breathed. 

 

The dragon was awake.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragon wakes, and all hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to stick with Bilbo for a bit again, telling the story from his and Zahra's POVs, and it seems that Thorin sneaked in there too. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine.

Bilbo had never intended to wake Smaug. It was an accident. Later, he would berate himself. Later, he would sit in horror, listening to the screams of the dying. It should never have happened. But it had. And many innocent people would pay the price for his folly. 

 

All he’d done was pull out a golden cup, and the mountain of gold had shifted, uncovering the dragon’s eye. Bilbo had gaped in fright. Then more gold, farther away had shifted as the dragon stirred. Bilbo ran to hide behind a pillar, praying to Eru, Yavanna, and Durin even that “Force” that Zahra spoke of, that the dragon would simply roll over and fall back asleep. 

 

But whatever luck had guided him thus far on this journey seemed to have finally run out, for the dragon woke with a rumble. As the eye began to open, Bilbo ducked behind a mound of gold and panted as quietly as he could in fright. He was caught. He would be eaten or roasted alive. Or, who knew, maybe Zahra would save him, slay the dragon and they’d find the Arkenstone and go back up to rejoin the dwarves?

 

Or…. 

 

Bilbo reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he’d discovered in the goblin tunnels. He thought of Gollum, of their game of riddles, and the race to escape the vile creature. He thought of the sideways looks both Gandalf and Zahra had given him since then, as if he’d done something wrong, but he didn’t know what that could be. The ring turned him invisible. It could save him now, as it had before. He put it on and got to his feet as Smaug raised his great head up from the gold, and sniffed. Bilbo breathed quickly, fighting his fear. He hoped Zahra stayed where she was and didn’t come back down. She didn’t have a ring to make her invisible. She’d be eaten for sure.

 

He focused back on Smaug, as the dragon growled deep in his throat. “Well, thief,” the dragon said, speaking slow and rumbling, his voice echoing through Bilbo like sound through the well of a drum. “I smell you. I hear your breath.” He moved around the pillar as he spoke, his belly hanging low, encrusted with jewels and gold from sleeping on the stuff for so long. Bilbo crouched low, practically lying down to avoid the dragon. “I feel your air. Where are you?” Bilbo stood. There was something not right about the dragon’s voice. It seemed to tug at him, making him dizzy. “Where are you?” Bilbo turned and ran down the golden mountain. 

 

Even invisible, he stirred the gold, kicking it up with his large bare feet. Smaug growled again and slithered after him, his nose shooting through the gold, sluicing it up in waves. Bilbo was too slow, compared to him, so he ducked behind another pillar and panted again, as the dragon moved past. 

 

“Come, now, don’t be shy,” Smaug said, turning towards him again. “Step into the light. Hmm. There is something about you. Something you carry. Something made of gold.” His great serpentine head moved around Bilbo’s pillar. “But far more… precious.” The word hissed through Bilbo, echoing in his mind, reminding him of Gollum, and another voice repeated the word in his head. As before at the border of Mirkwood, something flashed in his mind, the image of a great eye made of fire. It was too much. He yanked off the ring and then stood gaping stupidly up at Smaug. “There you are, Thief in the Shadows,” Smaug greeted him. 

 

Bilbo thought quickly, and came to a decision that he hoped wasn’t the wrong one. “I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy. I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence. To see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them!” His laughter was only a little hysterical sounding, he told himself.

 

It seemed to work. Smaug pulled back and moved around, shaking the ground a little. Bilbo turned and looked upon the dragon in his full demented glory. “And do you now?!”

 

“Truly,” Bilbo said, doing his best to smother his fear, “the tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous.”

 

“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?” Smaug asked. 

 

In truth, the thought had crossed his mind. “No, no,” Bilbo replied. 

 

“No, indeed,” Smaug said. “You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where did you come from, may I ask?”

 

Bilbo thought of the rolling green hills of the Shire, of its woods and fields and rivers… and knew he must lie. But then something caught his eye. A jewel huddled beneath a pile of gold, glowing with all manner of colors. The Arkenstone.

 

“I come from under the hill,” he said, quoting half-truths. 

 

“Underhill?” Smaug said. Bilbo nodded enthusiastically. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the Arkenstone for more than a moment. 

 

“And under hills and over hills my path has led,” he continued with a smile. “And—and through the air. I am he who walks unseen.”

 

“Impressive,” Smaug said. “What else do you claim to be?”

 

“I am—Luck-wearer,” he said. Smaug had come far too close, and his rancid breath was blasted into Bilbo’s face. He waved it away. “Riddle-maker.”

 

“Lovely titles,” said Smaug. “Go on.”

 

“Barrel-rider,” Bilbo continued. 

 

“Barrels? Now that is interesting,” Smaug interjected. He pulled back and looked down at Bilbo again. “And what about your little Dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?”

 

“D-dwarves?” Bilbo repeated like he’d never heard of such a thing. “No. No, no. No dwarves here. You’ve got that all wrong.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think so, Barrel-rider!” Smaug said. “They sent you in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside.” Smaug turned away in a flurry of gold, and Bilbo took the opportunity to get closer to the Arkenstone, until the dragon turned around again. 

 

“Truly you are mistaken, O Smaug Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities,” Bilbo said.

 

“You have nice manners for a thief and a liar! I know the smell and taste of dwarf. No one better!” Smaug exclaimed, getting angry and, to Bilbo’s surprise, frightened. “It is the gold! They are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh.” So agitated was Smaug that his flailing limbs and wings knocked the gold around and the Arkenstone went tumbling away. Bilbo chased after it, completely ignored by Smaug. “Did you think I did not know this day would come?! That a pack of canting dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?!” He pushed down a pillar and the whole mountain shook. “The King Under the Mountain is dead. I took his throne. I ate his people like a wolf among sheep.” 

 

“Yes!” a voice rang out, high and feminine. “You’re very impressive, O Smaug the Completely Out of Your Mind!” 

 

Bilbo’s heart stopped, but he took the time that Smaug swung around, distracted, to search once more for the Arkenstone. 

 

“And who are you?” the dragon asked. 

 

Bilbo looked over his shoulder and saw the dragon looking up at a lone figure on a bridge high up. 

 

“I’m a girl, what does it look like?” Zahra shot back. 

 

“But where are you from?” the dragon growled. 

 

That made Zahra pause. “I came from the stars above and the places beyond.” 

 

The dragon hissed. 

 

“And I’ve come here, O Smaug the Ugly and Paranoid, to put an end to your machinations,” Zahra went on. 

 

“How can a child like you stop me?” the dragon roared. He turned from her and continued after Bilbo. Bilbo turned and kept running. “I kill where I wish, when I wish! My armor is iron.” Smaug spread his wings, and glided across the hall. “No blade can pierce me.”

 

Bilbo huddled beneath a low bridge, too terrified to move. Where was Zahra? They were going to get killed. 

 

In a rage, Smaug let loose a blast of fire into the air, and Bilbo shut his eyes. Where was his courage now?

 

*

 

Up on the mountain side, the dwarves were pacing or standing, not knowing what to do. When the fire lit up the passage beyond the doorway, Ori looked around. “What about Bilbo and Zahra?”

 

“Give them more time,” Thorin said. He stood with his back to them, looking out over the mountain side.

 

“Time to do what? To get killed?” Balin asked rhetorically. 

 

Thorin looked at him, in disbelief. “You’re afraid,” he accused. 

 

“Yes, I’m afraid,” Balin said. He pointed at Thorin. “I fear for you. A sickness lies upon that treasure hoard. A sickness which drove your grandfather mad.”

 

“I am not my grandfather,” Thorin said almost faintly, turning away again. 

 

“You’re not yourself,” Balin said. “The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there—.”

 

“I will not risk this quest for the life of one burglar,” he said. 

 

“Bilbo,” Balin said. “His name is Bilbo. And what about Zahra? She was the only one brave enough amongst us to go down there with Bilbo.”

 

“That was her choice,” Thorin said. 

 

“But you let her go,” Balin said. “Are you just going to leave them to die? Leave her?”

 

Thorin looked down, eyes distant, as the mountain rocked beneath them. 

 

*

 

“It’s Oakenshield that filthy Dwarvish usurper,” Smaug exclaimed. 

 

Zahra looked down at him, trying to pinpoint Bilbo. She could feel him, but couldn’t see him. She spotted a gleam in the gloom. The Arkenstone. 

 

“He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn’t he?” Smaug asked. 

 

Well, paranoid he may be, but he wasn’t dumb. Zahra leaped to another bridge above the dragon and pulled her lightsaber from her belt, though she didn’t ignite it. She crouched at the edge of the bridge and gripped the side with her free hand, peering down.

 

“No. No, no,” Bilbo called out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Don’t bother denying it!” Smaug shouted. “I guessed his foul purpose some time ago.”

 

“Well aren’t you smart?!” Zahra mocked. Smaug hissed, looking up again. She flattened herself to the bridge on her stomach and waited. 

 

“But it matters not,” Smaug growled. “Oakenshield’s quest will fail. The darkness is coming. It will spread to every corner of the land.” Zahra shivered. 

 

“What do you know about it?” she called out. “Are you a part of it?”

 

Smaug chuckled. “Not yet,” he said. “But soon. Very soon.”

 

Zahra reached out with her feelings, sensed Bilbo creeping closer to the Arkenstone, and she stood. 

 

“You are being used, Thief in the Shadows, Girl from the Stars,” Smaug taunted them. “You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your lives and found them worth nothing.”  
Something pierced Zahra’s chest and she felt the same blow reverberate through Bilbo. The dwarves had treated them with friendship, but still. Bilbo was little more than their employee, and she was just a nuisance, tagging along with the faint hope of finding something to fix her ship so she could go home. 

 

“No. No. No, you’re lying!” Bilbo called back. 

 

Was he though? Tears pooled in Zahra’s eyes, remembering the glares, the rolled eyes directed at her by Thorin. She thought of the night the trolls had captured them, before she’d left. He’d turned his back to her. He was always turning his back to her. She gasped in a breath as a tear slid down her cheek. 

 

Was she really a means to an end? 

 

Then she thought of the Carrock, after Gandalf had saved him. Thorin had said he’d been wrong to doubt her and Bilbo. She felt again the warmth of his hug, and the kindness he’d shown her afterwards, sitting beside her and speaking with her, getting to know her, where he hadn’t before. She remembered his smile, his kindness. She remembered and she smiled. Thorin would never abandon them. They weren’t “nothing” to him. He cared for them. 

 

He cared for her. 

 

“You lying piece of filth!” she shouted down at Smaug. The dragon looked up, his glowing yellow eyes turning to slits as he found her, his dark red scales seeming to light up from within. “Thorin isn’t like that! He cares!”

 

“What did he promise you? A share of the treasure?” Smaug mocked. “As if it was his to give. I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it!” 

 

Bilbo made a break for it, running towards the Arkenstone. Smaug, seeing him, whipped his tail around, sending up a shower of gold coins, throwing Bilbo and the Arkenstone away. Zahra leaped down onto the dragon’s back, lightsaber hissing into life. Smaug looked up. She landed on his neck, slid down and thrust her lightsaber straight into his back. With a roar of fury, he bucked. 

 

Zahra was thrown free. A scream tore from her throat and she slammed into another hill of gold coins. Dazed she got to her hands and knees and shook her head. Holding out a hand her lightsaber, having deactivated and fallen from her grasp as she’d been thrown from Smaug’s back, flew into it. She stood shakily, then bent forward and retched into the gold, emptying her stomach’s contents. 

 

“My teeth are swords. My claws are spears. My wings are a hurricane!” Smaug declared rearing back. “What did you say?” Zahra looked over. Bilbo. What had Bilbo said?

 

“I was just saying your reputation precedes you, O Smaug the Tyrannical,” Bilbo said. “Truly. You have no equal on this earth.” At his feet, Zahra could see the Arkenstone. Bilbo saw it too. 

 

“I am almost tempted to let you take it,” Smaug said. “If only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad. But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So tell me, thief, how do you choose to die?” Without waiting for an answer, the dragon opened his jaws and moved to swallow the Hobbit down. 

 

Bilbo reached up and slid something onto a finger. Then he disappeared. 

 

Zahra’s jaw dropped. Smaug looked around, and then let loose a stream of fire, the scales along his chest and neck lighting up from the inside. Then Smaug roared in fury. Had he killed Bilbo? She couldn’t feel him anywhere!  
Unable to find Bilbo, Smaug turned and narrowed his gaze on her. Her own flew wide and she turned and took off across the coins. But she was hurt, her head aching, and she stumbled more than once. She could hear Smaug behind her, closing in. With one deep breath and one great leap, she shot upwards and settled on a bridge. But this did not deter Smaug; he came after her, climbing along the pillars like a giant bat. 

 

“Where do you think you’re going, girl?” Smaug shouted after her. 

 

“Away from you, you giant, stupid lizard!” she shouted back. She jumped to another bridge, leading the dragon away from Bilbo. She prayed he was still alive. She would not, could not think of him dead, so she refused to. 

 

“You will not get far, Girl from the Stars!” Smaug roared. 

 

Bridge after bridge she moved to and the dragon followed her. She hoped Bilbo got to safety. She hoped he’d found the Arkenstone and was on his way back to the dwarves. She hoped they all got well away from this mountain. She closed her eyes and hoped. 

 

*

 

Bilbo was racing up the stairs. Zahra. Zahra was in danger. He had to get help!

 

He looked up and saw Thorin, sword drawn, gazing out at the treasure with a look of wonder and awe on his face. Thorin saw him too and made for him. 

 

“You’re alive!” the king-returned said.

 

“Not for much longer!” Bilbo replied. 

 

“Where is Zahra?” Thorin asked.

 

“Sh-she--! She distracted him. She’s leading him farther down the hall,” Bilbo explained. “We have to help her.” 

 

But Thorin didn’t seem to hear him. “Did you find the Arkenstone?”

 

“The dragon’s coming,” Bilbo said. “Zahra is in danger. We all are!”

 

“The Arkenstone,” Thorin repeated, standing in front of the door way. Bilbo looked at him closely, not liking he shadow that gleamed in his eyes. “Did you find it?” Thorin asked. 

 

“We have to get out,” Bilbo said, starting past him. “We need to get help to save Zahra.”

 

Thorin’s sword blocked his way. “Thorin.” Bilbo backed up as the blade was tilted towards him. “Thorin.”

 

Then something caught Bilbo’s eye, a movement in the shadows. He could hear the breathing and Thorin heard it and turned. Smaug was back. But if he was here… where was Zahra?

 

The rest of the dwarves charged out and stood around Thorin, ineffectual weapons at the ready. Smaug roared and launched towards them. “You will burn!” he shouted. 

 

“Not if you don’t burn first!” Zahra shouted and she leaped down on the dragon’s head. Her lightsaber was ignited and she plunged it into his right eye. The dwarves shouted to her, but she ignored them. Bilbo watched, breathless, heart racing, as Smaug roared tossing his head. With a scream, Zahra was thrown off again. She and her lightsaber disappeared into the shadows. 

 

Bleeding and blinded in one eye, Smaug turned back to the dwarves and made for them again. “RUN!” Thorin shouted and they did, jumping over the edge of the steps they were on as fire blasted over them. 

 

“Come on, Bilbo!” Dori shouted to him, and they raced into a doorway into a room that looked like a smithy. 

 

A shout and Thorin rolled in, his outer coat on fire. He pulled it off and Dwalin stamped it out. On his feet again, Thorin said, “Come on.” His nephews were right behind him as he marched off. 

 

“What about Zahra?” Bilbo asked. 

 

“We can’t do much for her right now,” Thorin said over his shoulder. 

 

Bilbo saw Kilí and Filí look at one another as they followed after their uncle. Bilbo exchanged a look with Balin as they all made after him. Would Zahra be all right?


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin comes up with a plan. Smaug makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, originally, I divided this into three parts based on the movies. Here ends The Desolation of Smaug or, in other words, Part Two. Next week, I'll begin posting Part Three, but it will still be this story. But the Battle of the Five Armies is fast approaching, ya'll. 
> 
> The chapters will be longer, some shorter, but mostly longer. But it was fun to write and a lot of stuff is gonna go down. Given the length of some of the upcoming chapters, I may go back to posting one chapter a week for the foreseeable future. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Zahra rolled onto her back, grimacing and groaning in pain. She had blunted her impact with the Force but knew her back would be black and blue tomorrow. A quick check through the Force told her that she had no broken bones or internal bleeding at least. She drew in as much of the Force as she could and sat up, her lightsaber still clutched in her hand. She looked around. Her vision was spotty at first but cleared as she sat there, letting the Force heal her.

 

Bilbo (thank the Force he was alive!) and the dwarves were overhead and to the west of her. Smaug was over that way too, but from the lack of fire and shouts, she figured the dragon hadn’t found them yet. She assumed, now, that he must have detected the fresh dwarf scent when the Company entered the Mountain, and that was what drove him to abandon his chase of her. A good thing, sort of, since her strength had been flagging and he’d been gaining on her.

 

Gingerly, she stood, gripping the wall behind her to steady her shaking legs. She leaned against the wall heavily, panting, drawing on the Force for strength. After a few minutes, she was calm enough to hurry after the others. She moved slowly, pausing every few minutes to catch her breath, rethinking her assessment that she was well. She reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a bacta pill. She swallowed it in one go, grimacing at the sensation, and felt the effects a few moments later. Strength flowed through her. Her body felt a little better, but it still ached.

 

Squaring her shoulders, she hurried on, determined to keep her friends safe.

 

*

 

They’d found the mummified corpses of the dwarves’ kin and they’d begun to lose hope. Bilbo felt sorrow as he heard Balin admit defeat.

 

“No,” Thorin said. “I will not die like this. Cowering. Clawing for breath.” He turned to the rest of them. “We make for the forges.”

 

“He’ll see us, sure as death,” Dwalin said.

 

“Not if we split up,” Thorin said.

 

“Thorin,” Balin interjected, “we’ll never make it.”

 

“Some of us might,” the king replied. “Lead him to the forges. We kill the dragon. If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together.”

 

Bilbo went with Thorin and Balin. As they were hurrying across a bridge, Smaug appeared. “Flee. Flee. Run for your lives. There is nowhere to hide.”

 

Then Dori, Ori and Bombur appeared and distracted the dragon long enough for them to keep on going. Bilbo looked around as they ran, hoping against hope to see Zahra somewhere above, leaping from one bridge to another, their little sparrow. But he could not see her anywhere.

 

*

 

Zahra stopped as she heard footsteps running ahead. She paused, trying to pinpoint them and then raced on. She rounded a corner and saw Filí and Kilí and Bofur. “Hey!” she called quietly to them. They turned, saw her and hurried to her side. She was leaning once more against the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist.

 

“Zahra!” Kilí exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

 

“You look terrible,” Filí said.

 

“Like death warmed over,” Bofur added.

 

She grimaced at them. “Thanks a lot, guys. Smaug threw me and I hit a wall, but I should be okay.” They gaped at her. She waved away their concern. “Where’s everyone else?”

 

“We split up,” Filí said, going to her side and putting an arm around her waist to support her. She put one arm around his shoulders in return, leaning into his warmth gratefully. “Uncle wants us to make for the forges and lead the dragon there.”

 

“What’s he planning?” she asked as they continued on.

 

“We don’t know,” Kilí said. Then he grinned. “But I bet it’ll be good.”

 

They made it to the forges in short order and Zahra leaned back against a pillar at the entrance. Filí stayed beside her as the other two paced, waiting for the others to arrive. She looked at the display before her and could hardly make any sense of it. Large furnaces, giant bellows, and four great heads carved into the wall above and, beyond them, great wheels at the sides. Chains hung from the ceiling and a set of stairs led up to a small platform where there was a lever on the wall. She’d never seen anything like this. The only comparison she could make was to the droid factories on Geonosis. She remembered going there once with her Master to mediate a trade agreement with the Galactic Alliance. That seemed a lifetime ago now.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Zahra?” the golden-haired prince asked.

 

She gave him a smile. “I’m fine, Filí, really.” She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me.” He didn’t look convinced. In truth, the bacta pill was wearing off already. She’d spent too much energy hurrying over to find the others, energy that should have ideally been spent resting. _Oh, well,_ she thought. _If I die, at least it’ll be with my friends and not alone._

 

A great roaring reached her ears and she knew that Smaug was near. She closed her eyes and waited, taking the opportunity to let the Force fill her up. She heard Bilbo and Thorin and Balin and the rush of flames. She blocked it all out to focus on the Force and regaining her lost strength.

 

“Zahra!”

 

She snapped her eyes open and looked to see Bilbo hurrying towards her. “Bilbo! You’re alive!”

 

“I could say the same to you!” he said, grinning at her with joy and worry. The dwarves all crowded around her. Only Gloin and Bifur were missing.

 

“That was a brave thing you did, lass,” Balin said to her.

 

She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to let him burn you all,” she said with feeling. “I won’t. Not while I am still breathing.” She pushed off from the pillar and stood tall and fierce before them. “I’ll die before I let any harm come to you all.”

 

The dwarves stared up at her with wide eyes and open mouths. “We’re not your responsibility, girl,” Thorin said.

 

She looked at him. “As soon as we met and you let me join your quest, you became my responsibility, Thorin Oakenshield. I’m a Jedi. I take my duty seriously. No one will die on my watch. Not if I can help it.”

 

Smaug’s screech of rage, somehow distant yet echoing, reached their ears.

 

The Company looked around. “The plan’s not gonna work,” Dwalin said. “These furnaces are stone cold.”

 

“He’s right,” Balin agreed with his brother. “We’ve no fire hot enough to set them ablaze.”

 

Thorin smiled grimly. “Have we not?” He hurried to the pillars and shouted out, “I did not look to see you so easily outwitted.” Beyond the pillars, Smaug was climbing up from a great chasm down below. He snaked his head around and glared with hate at Thorin. “You have grown slow and fat in your dotage, slug!”

 

Smaug growled and turned his body to face them.

 

Thorin turned to them. “Take cover. Go!” The Company surged forward and pressed themselves to a pillar each, as Smaug shot fire through them. The fire reached the furnaces, and the wall beyond it. When it died down, Zahra saw that several of the furnaces had caught fire, and one after another they all did.

 

Smaug began to push against the grate above the pillars, anxious to get in at them.

 

“Bombur! Get those bellows working,” Thorin ordered. “Go!” Bombur hurried off, jumping and grabbing a chain. He bobbed down and up, the fire beneath the furnaces blazing blue as they heated. “Bilbo! Up there. On my mark pull that lever.” Bilbo moved off. Zahra listened to Thorin give out orders, keeping her eyes on Smaug. “Balin! Can you still mix a flash-flame?”

 

“Aye, it’ll only take a jiffy! Come on!” the white-haired dwarf said, and he and several others raced into an adjacent room, Filí and Kilí among them.

 

“We don’t have a jiffy!” Dwalin growled.

 

Smaug broke through right then. He looked around and narrowed his eye on the remaining dwarves and Zahra. Taking a deep breath, she rushed forward, surprising Smaug. He reared back… and she saw it. A missing scale on his breast. She didn’t know what it meant only that it was a weakness. She grabbed up a piece of iron and tossed it aiming for that spot. Smaug batted it away. He lunged for her and she dropped down, sliding forward, beneath him. She thrust her lightsaber upwards and it grazed along his belly. Smaug roared. His tail came down and swiped at her. She jumped out of the way and settled on a small ledge, opposite the one Bilbo was on.

 

Ignoring her in favor of the dwarves, Smaug crawled through the forges. Then he stopped, turned his head and looked directly at Thorin. “Now!” Thorin shouted.

 

Zahra saw Bilbo jump up, grab the lever and pull it down with all his body weight. The statues on either side of him dropped their mouths and water gushed out hitting the wheels and setting them spinning. Smaug looked at them and then the water hit him, smothering his fire, knocking the dragon off his feet and into the furnaces. Steam rose up from Smaug and the hot forges and Zahra lost sight of everyone and everything.

 

But she could still hear. All was chaos. She heard mechanical whirring and ticking as the carts strung from the ceiling began to move. Grunts from a dwarf and roars from the dragon. The flare of flames as the furnaces heated more and more. The steam cleared and a flash of light hit Smaug, making him look around. She turned. Balin, Ori and several other dwarves were throwing the flash-flames at the dragon. They weren’t doing anything but pissing him off even more. Then, one of the ropes of gold-filled carts fell down on top of Smaug. Zahra looked up and saw Gloin and Bifur standing in two empty carts. As she looked down again, she noticed the gold in the furnaces was molten now. Thorin rushed to another chain and pulled, opening the gates on the furnaces and sending the gold out in a river. She took the time to leap across to join Bilbo. The Hobbit grasped her hand and she tugged him close.

 

Smaug reared up, taking out the other cart cables. Gloin and Bifur rolled out of their carts when they fell to the floor, barely missing falling into the path of the gold.

 

“Lead him to the Gallery of the Kings!” Thorin shouted and raced off. Smaug was moving about and a cart came loose flying towards Zahra and Bilbo. With a yell, they ducked.

 

Thorin picked up a wheelbarrow and threw it into the golden river, leaping onto it as well. The ledge Zahra and Bilbo stood on crumbled and she grabbed hold of him and jumped onto an empty stretch of the ground.

 

“Keep going, you two!” Thorin shouted to them and disappeared. Smaug looked at them, and Zahra felt a chill race down her spine despite the heat.

 

Zahra stood and dragged Bilbo up with her. She turned and ran with him, sliding down an incline. Up again, and they raced on, running through an arching doorway and into a large, expansive, extremely quiet hall. It had an impression in the middle of the floor that stretched several miles length wise. More stout pillars and huge tapestries hanging from the ceiling. The hall was empty except for a tall statue at its end that she could barely see in the moonlight streaming in through windows high overhead. Chains hung around it and Zahra could just make out its shape, that of a dwarf. King Thror, maybe?

 

She had only a second to glance up and see the molten gold pouring into its top, Thorin clinging to a chain above it.

 

Then Smaug burst through the wall behind her and Bilbo. Running to miss the falling debris, they were brought down by a tapestry.

 

“You think you can deceive me, Barrel-rider?” Smaug sneered hatefully. Zahra and Bilbo looked at each other from beneath the tapestry and peeked out at the dragon. “You have come from Laketown.” Zahra looked at Bilbo and he paled. “This is some sordid scheme hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable tub-trading Lakemen. Those sniveling cowards with their long bows and Black Arrows. Perhaps it is time I paid them a visit.”

 

“Oh, no,” Bilbo breathed.

 

The two of them crawled out from beneath the tapestry and ran after Smaug.

 

“This isn’t their fault!” Bilbo shouted. “Wait! You cannot go to Laketown.”

 

Smaug paused and looked back, twisting his gigantic body around. “You care about them, do you?” His one eye gleamed with malice and glee. “Good. Then you can watch them die.”

 

“NO!” Zahra cried.

 

Smaug did not listen. He turned once more and began to weave between the pillars, heading for the exit.

 

“Here! You witless worm!” Thorin shouted. Zahra looked up and pulled Bilbo tight against her.

 

Smaug paused and slowly turned around, taking in Thorin atop the statue of King Thror. “You.”

 

“I am taking back what you stole,” Thorin declared.

 

Smaug moved toward him. “You will take nothing from me, dwarf. I laid low your warriors of old.” Zahra and Bilbo ran across the open floor, not daring to take their eyes off Thorin and Smaug. “I instilled terror in the hearts of Men. I am King Under the Mountain.”

 

“This is not your kingdom,” Thorin said. “These are Dwarf lands. This is Dwarf gold. And we will have our revenge.” He shouted something in Dwarvish and pulled on a rope. Zahra could sense the rest of the company standing on the scaffolding behind the statue and soon, the chains were pulled back and the rock began to fall. Thorin held onto his chain and swung away.

 

What was left was a giant statue of gold, depicting King Thror in golden glory. Smaug stared, enraptured. Then, it began to melt. It fell, down and out, and Smaug shrieked as the gold, still hot, fell upon him. Like a wave it crashed down on him, tripping him and making him fall to the floor. The gold covered him, smoothed out, and all was still.

 

Was it over?

 

Silence for a long moment, and then Smaug burst up from the floor, causing Zahra and Bilbo to jump. With another shriek, he moved clumsily towards the outer wall, gold clinging to his scales, pooling in the wounds Zahra had given him earlier. “Revenge?!” he called out, groaning. “Revenge?! I will show you revenge.” He barreled through the wall of the mountain, and out into the night.

 

Zahra picked up Bilbo and Force-ran after him. Stepping out onto a rock, they stared after him. He ran, flapping his wings, and thrust upwards into the sky. He twisted, and the remaining gold fell from him in a shimmering rain, caught by the breeze and dispersed. He started to fall, but then his wings shot out and caught the air currents. Smaug’s voice drifted back to them on the wind. “I am fire,” he said. “I am… death.” He snarled and headed towards Laketown.

 

Side by side, panting, Zahra and Bilbo stared after him and Bilbo whispered, “What have we done?”

 

Zahra had no answer for him. She had failed. Again. Now the people of the Lake would pay for their folly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably wondering why I didn't let Zahra kill Smaug. Well, she's a Jedi, yes, but only an apprentice. She isn't a Mary Sue, and fails at quite a lot. It's part of her character growth that she realizes the limitations she has as a Padawan learner and the limitations of the Force. She can do quite a lot with it, but she can't do everything. (Since this is the first part in a series, her character growth may be a bit slow, but it will happen. Most definitely in the next story I have planned for her.)
> 
> Also, I didn't want to stray too far from movie canon. So, there's that.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra learns just what it means to be helpless, and she and Bilbo worry for Thorin's sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so long guys. Life happened. Only one chapter this week, given it's length. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks and feel free to comment. :)

The lake was on fire.

 

Bilbo, Zahra and the dwarves could all see it from their vantage point on a decrepit roof in Dale. Bilbo watched as Zahra stood their amongst them, tears streaming down her face, fighting the grips of Filí and Kilí as she begged them to let her go. “I need to save them!” she screamed. The dwarves tried to talk her out of it, but she continued to push against them. She was pale, paler than Bilbo had ever seen her, her red-gold hair damp with sweat and in disarray, pulled from its braids. Her green eyes, like the emeralds he’d seen inside the mountain, were fevered, almost wild, and dark shadows hung beneath them. “I need to save them!”

 

“There’s nothing you can do, lassie,” Dwalin said, stepping in front of her, tears on his own cheeks. She looked at him. “There is nothing anyone can do.”

 

She stopped struggling after a long moment and then collapsed, her head resting on the bald dwarf’s shoulder. Filí and Kilí released her. She fell to her knees and Dwalin took her into his arms, holding her tightly. “I’m so sorry, lass,” Dwalin said. “I’m so sorry.” As the others looked on, listening to the roar of the dragon in the distance and the screams of the people, Zahra wept. She wept until sleep claimed her. Dwalin handed her off to Filí who sat and held her across his lap as she slept.

 

The dwarves murmured among themselves, as death took its victims miles from their doorstep. Bilbo looked back the way they’d come and saw Thorin. The dark-haired dwarf was staring at the mountain, seemingly deaf and blind to what was happening at his back. The fear that Bilbo had felt earlier that night, when Thorin had pointed his sword at Bilbo and asked for the Arkenstone, returned, and Bilbo knew that whatever danger they had just went through had not passed altogether. More would come.

 

“It’s like Dale all over again,” Balin said, sitting on a rock, head bowed. The old warrior looked utterly defeated. “Listening to them die, being burned alive, or drowning in the cold water as they try to escape the fires. Our greed brought the dragon’s wrath all those years ago, and our foolishness brought it tonight.” He shook his head. “How can we come back from this?”

 

No one answered.

 

*

 

Zahra was dimly aware of being carried. Then, there was stone beneath her back, something warm draped over her and a strong body beside her and she was enveloped in warmth. She burrowed into it and drifted back to sleep.

 

*

 

_She was standing on the edge of a cliff looking out on a broad ocean. She did not recognize this place. Behind her, the world was in shadow. Far in the distance, her gaze caught on something coming towards her. A great wave. It rose and rose and rose, higher than a mountain, bigger than anything she’d ever seen before. It moved towards her at a fast pace and she couldn’t move. Her legs were frozen to the earth. All she could do was watch._

 

_Then a voice crept into her mind. A voice so dark, so evil, as to render her completely immobile, her breath freezing in her chest and throat. It said, “_ I… see… you. _”_

 

_In the foam cap of the wave, she saw the image of a tall man. She could not distinguish any part of him other than his outline. He seemed to be wearing some kind of crown, for horn-like shapes jutted up from his head. He lifted a hand and reached for her. Then, a flash of light escaped the shadows behind her and raced towards him with all the swiftness of a blaster-bolt. It speared him, and he was flung out over the ocean, disappearing into the distance. Zahra could only stare in wonder._

 

_Then, the wave crashed down on her and she was swept away._

 

*

 

When she woke again, the sun was dusting the eastern horizon in pale shadow. A feeling of unease filled her, but she didn’t know why. She’d been dreaming, but… what about? She couldn’t remember.

 

Zahra sat up and looked down. Someone had fetched her robe from the ledge by the hidden door and put it over her. Her head had been propped on her pack. To her left, Filí lay asleep, curled on his side, his back to her. Zahra patted his shoulder gently, not wanting to wake him, then stood, pulling on her robe and wrapping it around her tightly.

 

She stepped from the small chamber they’d been in and surveyed the wreckage around her. Here she was again in the last hall, the Gallery of Kings. The floor where Smaug had fallen was covered in gold, hard and cool now. It would almost be beautiful if she hadn’t known what had caused it. The events of last night came back to her and she shuddered. Panic tore at her throat. She hurried across the hall, to the end where Smaug had burst through. She climbed over rocks and chiseled stone. Laced with morning dew as they were, she slipped several times. She burst from the confines of the Lonely Mountain and inhaled the cool morning air. She blinked up at the pale sky, and looked south.

 

Smoke furled into the air. She couldn’t see Laketown from here, only the ruins of Dale, but she knew where that smoke was from. She sat on a piece of stone that had once been a part of Erebor’s battlements and stared out at the smoke, losing herself to despair.

 

Her mind drifted to other places, traveling light years away to a home that was so distant now as to feel like the memory of a memory. Faces floated past her mind’s eye, and she shut her eyes as if that could block them out. Even if she did go home, what would be the point? She hadn’t found her Master. She’d failed the people of this world. She’d boasted to Thranduil, that arrogant asshole, that she could kill Smaug and hadn’t. She imagined the self-satisfied smirk on his damnably beautiful face and gritted her teeth. She was a failure through and through.

 

Tears smarted at her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. In silence, she kept vigil over the south and wept.

 

Footsteps behind her brought her around some time later, the sun drifting higher past the distant hills, tears dry on her cheeks. Dwalin came up beside her and sat next to her. He patted her knee with his usual kind gruffness and looked to Dale as she did. They sat side by side for several long minutes in the quiet of early dawn, before something tugged at her consciousness and she stood and narrowed her eyes. So caught up in her grief she hadn’t been paying attention, but now she sensed something through the Force, even from this great distance. People on the lakeshore, far beyond her sight. She was stretching the Force to the very limits of what she was capable of, but she felt them.

 

“What is it?” Dwalin asked, standing also.

 

“Survivors from Laketown,” she breathed.

 

“Survivors?” he repeated.

 

“What of the dragon? What happened to Smaug?” she asked. She couldn’t sense the beast at all, she realized. Something fluttered inside her, something small and warm… something she dared not name.

 

“He was killed,” Dwalin said looking up at her. “You didn’t know?”

 

“No, I didn’t,” she said. She turned to Dwalin and clasped his shoulders. “This is wonderful, Dwalin! We must tell the others!” She turned and hurried back inside, not seeing the baleful look Dwalin shot southward.

 

Inside, she raced past all the wreckage and made it into the city itself. It was grand; the halls, stairs, and bridges all hewn from the mountain itself: a dark jet-green marble shot through with veins of black and gold. In another time and place she would have paused to admire the beauty of it, but all it did was leave her cold.

 

“Wait!” a voice called out.

 

“Bilbo!” she shouted back, pausing.

 

“Wait!” he cried out again, running up to her. “You need to leave. We all need to leave. I’ve tried talking him but he just won’t listen.”

 

“Who?” she asked, but she knew. “Thorin?”

 

Bilbo nodded, looking exasperated. “He’s been down there for days. He doesn’t sleep. He barely eats. He’s not been himself. Not at all. It’s this place. Ahem. I think a sickness lies on it.” Zahra couldn’t argue with that; she’d felt it too. Still felt it.

 

“Days?” she repeated. “How long was I asleep?”

 

“A day or two,” he said, shrugging. “You needed the rest; we didn’t want to wake you. You were so distraught afterwards.” The look he gave her said he wanted an explanation. She remembered her sobbing and begging to be let go to save the Lakemen.

 

“I could feel them dying,” she whispered. Bilbo’s eyes went wide. “Through the Force. So many dying, their deaths a ripple, reaching out to me.” She shook her head, closing her eyes to block out the memories to little use. “Where is he? Where’s Thorin?” she asked. Bilbo didn’t look like he wanted to say, but, after a moment, he pointed behind him. “The hoard,” she said, and hurried on. Thorin. She had to see Thorin. She couldn’t think about Laketown and its wandering inhabitants. Thorin was what mattered now.

 

She heard the rest of the dwarves, woken either by her and Bilbo shouting, or by Dwalin stirring them, followed behind her. She glanced back and saw Filí and Kilí close behind her.

 

Gold light filled the way ahead and they burst out onto a ledge. Down below, dressed in a king’s robe, walking over the gold and muttering to himself, was Thorin.

 

“Gold,” he said. “Gold beyond measure. Beyond sorrow… and grief.” He looked up and spotted them. His eyes passed over all before settling on his nephews. “Behold the great treasure hoard of Thror.” He threw something and Filí caught it. It was a large ruby. “Welcome, my sister-sons, to the Kingdom of Erebor.” He spread his arms, as if to encompass all of the vast wealth with one gesture.

 

Zahra stared at the king. This was not Thorin. This was not her friend and, she swallowed, father-figure. Thorin spotted her and smiled warmly. Too warmly for Thorin. “At last, you are awake again, Zahra Rivers, Girl from the Stars,” he said. The title jolted through her and she thought of Smaug instantly. “What do you think of my kingdom?”

 

She swallowed and smiled. “It’s very nice,” she said. “Very impressive. I’ve never seen the like, not in all my travels.” Thorin smiled even more, pleased.

 

“We must search for the Arkenstone!” he shouted. “Come, all of you! We must find it!”

 

They hurried down in single file, Bilbo and Zahra bringing up the rear, sharing a look. Just before they reached the bottom, she grabbed Bilbo’s shoulder, stopping him. Bending down, she looked him straight in the eye. “Do you have the Arkenstone?” she breathed, voicing a theory she’d held since facing the dragon.

 

Bilbo looked at her, then around at all the others. “Yes,” he replied, so silent that only Zahra could hear.

 

“You haven’t given it to Thorin?” she asked, just as quiet.

 

“No,” he said.

 

“Good,” she said, surprising him. She stood. Looking down, she added, “Don’t.”

 

“What should I do with it then?” he asked.

 

“You’re a smart Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins,” she said. “You’ll think of something.”

 

“You’re beginning to sound like Gandalf,” he replied, following her onto the gold.

 

“Good,” she repeated. “Someone has to.”

 

*

 

“Any sign of it?” Thorin called after they’d been looking for a few hours.

 

“Nothing yet,” Dwalin shouted back. He hadn’t told Thorin about the Laketown survivors yet, to Zahra’s relief. The way Thorin was behaving, she shuddered to think of how he would react once he found out people had survived.

 

“Nothing here,” Ori cried.

 

“Keep searching!” Thorin ordered.

 

“That jewel could be anywhere!” Gloin complained.

 

“The Arkenstone is in these halls,” Thorin said. “Find it!”

 

“You heard him!” Dwalin said, glancing around. His eyes snagged on Zahra and he nodded. Though he hid it well, he was worried about Thorin too. “Keep looking.”

 

She looked up to see Thorin pacing agitatedly on a bend of stairs. “All of you! No one rests until it is found.”

 

Zahra saw Bilbo standing up there with Thorin, staring at the dwarf with worry and fear, both of which were for Thorin. She knew exactly how he felt. She hurried past the dwarves, feet crunching on gold, and ran up the stairs to where the Hobbit and dwarf stood. Thorin glared at her. “I told you to keep looking for the Arkenstone,” he snarled.

 

She blinked at him, trying to hide the hurt she felt. “You’re not my king, Thorin,” she said. “You don’t order me around.”

 

His lip curled and he turned his back to her. It was the troll-burned farm all over again. She stifled a gasp of pain, and grabbed Bilbo’s hand and pulled him away.

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, hurrying along beside her.

 

“Away,” she said. “It’s too stifling down here. I need air.”

 

She led him up, and up, following the stairs until she reached the wrecked hall. She found a doorway off to the side and some more stairs and led Bilbo up, breaking out into the clear mountain air. They stood on what remained of the battlements for a long moment in silence.

 

With a heavy sigh, she sat on a rock. Bilbo sat beside her. “Are you okay, Zahra?” he whispered.

 

“I don’t know, Bilbo.” She sighed again and put her head into her hands. “Oh, Bilbo,” she said, her voice breaking. “Thorin isn’t Thorin anymore!” She turned her head and looked at the Hobbit with tear filled eyes. “You were right, about this place being sick. It is sick, very sick. Evil has sat here for years! That damn dragon was a vestibule of darkness. The dark side of the Force is everywhere here! It has bled into the very stone. It’s already affecting Thorin. Don’t you remember what Lord Elrond said? A strain of madness runs in his family line. His grandfather, his father, both succumbed to it. What’s to stop the same from happening to Thorin? Hell, it’s already happening to him!” She buried her face back into her hands. Bilbo patted her shoulder. “How can we save him?” she asked, her voice muffled by her hands. She didn’t expect an answer and received none.

 

After a bit she sat back and stared ahead at Dale. Were the people there? Where else could they go? Other than the mountain, that is, but she didn’t see Thorin welcoming them in with open arms, despite what he’d promised them. Were they making the best of their tragic situation?

 

Bilbo pulled something from inside his coat pocket. She didn’t bother to look, her mind elsewhere. When he sighed, she looked down. The Arkenstone. “Put it away, Bilbo,” she said, looking back south again. “Don’t let anyone see it. If Thorin finds out you’ve had it this whole time and didn’t tell him… I fear for what he would do to you. Or try to do.” She narrowed her eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear it.”

 

Bilbo put it back into his coat. “I won’t let him know,” he promised and they grew silent again.

 

*

 

Bilbo stood at the throne, watching Thorin who stood, back to them, hunched over the seat of the king, hands clutching one of its armrests. He’d left Zahra on the battlement. Balin and Dwalin stood at the foot of the throne, both looking haggard and sad beyond measure as they watched their king.

 

“It is here in these halls,” Thorin said quietly. “I know it.”

 

“We have searched and searched,” Dwalin said.

 

“Not well enough,” Thorin growled, still without turning.

 

“Thorin,” Dwalin said, almost beseechingly. “We all would see the stone returned.”

 

“And yet, it is still not found!” Thorin hissed.

 

“Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?” Balin asked.

 

Thorin straightened and turned. He started down the steps. Bilbo glanced at him and then away, feeling extremely guilty, though he knew keeping the stone from Thorin was the right thing. Wasn’t it?

 

“The Arkenstone,” Balin continued, calmly, “is the birthright of our people.”

 

“It is the King’s Jewel,” Thorin said, then he shouted, “Am I not the king?!”

 

Bilbo watched him with a blank face. Balin sighed and looked away.

 

“Know this: if anyone should find it and withhold it from me,” Thorin said, turning away again, “I will be avenged.” His threat was low, but clearly heard by his cousins and Bilbo.

 

He walked away and then Dwalin and Balin did too. Bilbo stood there for a moment, and then went after Balin. He found him in a small library. The old dwarf was crying. He heard Bilbo come in and rasped out, “Dragon-sickness. I’ve seen it before. That look. The terrible need.” He looked at Bilbo. “It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilbo. It sent his grandfather mad.”

 

“Balin, if Thorin had the Arkenstone,” the Hobbit whispered, giving the dwarf a meaningful look, “or if it was found… would it help?”

 

“That stone crowns all,” Balin replied after a moment, gesturing with one gloved hand. “It is the summit of this great wealth bestowing power upon he who bears it. Would it stay his madness?” Balin shook his head. “No, laddie. I fear it would make him worse. Perhaps it is best that it remains lost.” He looked at Bilbo keenly.

 

“That’s what Zahra said,” Bilbo said. “She says this place is filled with darkness.”

 

“She would be right, then, wouldn’t she?” Balin said. He patted Bilbo on the shoulder and left him.

 

Bilbo walked until his thoughts became too distracting to watch where he was going. He sat on a small stone bench, thinking. After a few minutes he pulled an object from his pocket and stared at it, rolling it in his hand. He sighed in longing to himself.

 

“What is that?” came Thorin’s voice from out of the shadows. Bilbo turned and closed his fist instinctively. He stood and backed away as Thorin strode forward. “In your hand.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Bilbo said.

 

“Show me,” Thorin ordered.

 

Bilbo stared at him in disbelief. “It--,” he began then just held up his fist and unfurled his fingers showing Thorin the little acorn. “I picked it up in Beorn’s garden,” he explained as Thorin looked at it.

 

“You’ve carried it all this way,” Thorin said, looking at him wonderingly.

 

“I’m gonna plant it in my garden,” Bilbo said, putting the acorn back into his pocket. “In Bag End.”

 

Thorin smiled, and Bilbo caught a glimpse of the old Thorin, the one he could and would gladly call friend. “It’s a poor prize to take back to the Shire,” Thorin said.

 

Bilbo shrugged one shoulder. “One day, it’ll grow,” he said. He smiled briefly. “And every time I look at it, I’ll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad… and how lucky I am that I made it home.” Thorin’s smile grew as if he were remembering their journey too. Bilbo smiled to see the old Thorin resurfacing. “Thorin, I--,” he started, but he never got the chance to know what he would have said, for they were interrupted.

 

“Thorin,” Dwalin said. “Survivors from Laketown, they’re streaming into Dale.”

 

And just like that, the veil of shadow fell back down over Thorin’s eyes, and he was lost to his madness once more.

 

“There’s hundreds of them,” Dwalin said.

 

“Call everyone to the gate,” Thorin ordered and marched off. “To the gate! Now!”

 

Bilbo watched him go, and Dwalin moved past. Leaning back against the wall for a moment, Bilbo wondered if Thorin would ever come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent the last two weeks going over and over this chapter and I still don't feel completely satisfied. I added the dream sequence and I'm not sure how well it fits. I'm editing the rest of the story and will continue to post one chapter a week, if I can.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin builds a wall; Bard comes calling; and Zahra, growing desperate, makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, for me, was both a fun chapter to write and a brutal one. Read it and see. :)
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks!
> 
> Again, this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own!

Zahra stood up from her seat on the battlement and watched the people of Laketown enter into Dale. From this distance, they were tiny specks, but still plainly visible. She sighed with relief to see them. Through the Force, she’d tracked their progress, waiting for something bad to befall them, but nothing had. She thanked the Force and smiled to herself.

 

Footsteps sounded and she turned. Thorin, Dwalin, Bilbo, and the others were hurrying through the hall below. Thorin paused when he saw the people entering Dale and he growled. He turned around, looked at the Company, looked at the wrecked gates and battlements, looked at the mess of the hall and came to a decision.

 

“Build up a wall!” he shouted. “Use the wreckage and build it high up to the battlements again. I don’t want any Man entering this mountain!”

 

Zahra jumped down beside him. He glared at her. “What about me?” she asked, goading him.

 

“What about you?” he asked.

 

“Aren’t I a ‘Man’?” she asked.

 

“You’re different.”

 

“How?” she asked.

 

“You don’t want to stay here.” Then he stomped off. Or he started to.

 

Zahra called after him. “Then give me some Mithril,” she said. He stopped. Everyone else paused from gathering stones. Bilbo looked at her and shook his head rapidly.

 

“Mithril?” Thorin repeated. He turned. “Mithril?”

 

“You said you’d give me some or dragon scales to repair my ship,” she said. “Smaug currently lies at the bottom of a lake. It would take too long to drag him out, even in pieces. The wormhole returned a few nights ago,” she said, pointing up. “If you give me some Mithril, then I can leave and fix my ship and get off this planet.”

 

The Company stared at her, some with regret at her impending departure on their faces, others with fear at how Thorin would react.

 

“You think I would give you what belongs to my people?” Thorin asked. He shouted something in Dwarvish that she couldn’t understand, but from the shocked looks on the other dwarves’ faces and the winces form Balin and Dwalin, she knew it was an insult. “Go get the dragon’s scales, girl! You’ll not take anything from my kingdom!” He turned to go again, but she called him back.

 

“So that’s it? I ask for help and you deny me it?” she asked. She pointed behind her, even though Thorin hadn’t turned around. “What about those people? Did you not promise them a share in the treasure? Are you a liar now, Thorin Oakenshield? What kind of king does that make you, if you can’t keep a few promises made in desperation?”

 

“The kind of king who has a mountain filled with treasure,” Thorin said loudly, spinning around again. She flinched at the look in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her with such hate before.

 

“They will come to you for help,” she said. “They will come to you seeking shelter. Look around, you daft idiot! Winter is coming! Those people, their town was destroyed, their food and supplies are all gone! Will you turn them away as well?”

 

“Yes!” Thorin cried.

 

“And what about when your supplies run low? What good will your treasure do you then?” she asked.

 

“What do you care, you’ll be gone?” Thorin shouted.

 

She stared at him, dropping her arm. She shook her head, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. In a quiet voice she said, “I once told you, you were just like my father. I was wrong, I see that now.” She strode up to him and bent over, putting her face close to his. She hissed at him, “You are far worse than he ever was!” This time, she stalked past him and away.

 

*

 

Zahra didn’t go far. She found her pack and huddled behind a large piece of stone, listening as the dwarves worked far into the night to erect a barrier between them and the outside world at their king’s order. Bilbo found her, of course, and he sat beside her. He told her about Thorin’s reaction to the acorn he carried with him. How it had seemed like the old Thorin, _their_ Thorin had almost come back. But when he’d learned that the Lakemen were moving into Dale, _their_ Thorin had disappeared again.

 

“It’s no use, Bilbo,” she whispered, wiping her face of tears. “He’s gone. What light remains in him is fading fast. Soon, he will be in the grips of madness with no way out.”

 

“I don’t believe that,” Bilbo said taking her hand in both of his. “And you don’t either, not really.” He reached up with one hand and stroked the tears from her cheeks. “He’s still in there. We can bring him back. I know we can. We just have to believe in him.”

 

She smiled at him. “You’d make an excellent Jedi, Bilbo.” She looked down at their joined hands and squeezed his. “Far better than I ever will.”

 

“I thought you were a Jedi,” he said.

 

“I am, though, I guess, technically I’m still an apprentice,” she said. She frowned at him. “I thought I told you this when we met.”

 

“Did you?” Bilbo blinked, then shrugged. “It was so long ago, I guess I forgot.”

 

She laughed and then sighed. “I’m so afraid, Bilbo,” she said. “For Thorin, for all of you, for the Lakemen. News of Smaug’s death will have spread.” She narrowed her eyes at the rock in front of her. “I fear war is coming. And sequestered inside this damn mountain, Thorin will make us sitting ducks.”

 

“You don’t have to stay,” Bilbo said after a moment.

 

“Believe me, I want to stay, to at least see you all through this,” she said. She looked him straight in the eye. “But, Bilbo, if Thorin doesn’t bend, if he doesn’t give the people of the Lake what they need, I can only do what is right…even if that means leaving you all.”

 

Bilbo smiled and squeezed her hand again. At the moment, the Hobbit truly was her only source of comfort.

 

*

 

Bilbo rejoined the dwarves later, leaving Zahra to get some sleep. As he was helping Kilí push a giant (to him) wheelbarrow, Thorin was barking orders again. “I want this fortress made safe by sunup,” he said. “This Mountain was hard-won. I will not see it taken again.”

 

Kilí dropped his end of the wheelbarrow. “Didn’t you listen to what Zahra was saying earlier, uncle? The people of Laketown have nothing. They came to us in need. They have lost everything.” Bilbo would have applauded the youthful dwarf if he wasn’t so tired.

 

“Do not tell me what they have lost,” Thorin replied. “I know well enough their hardship. Those who have lived through dragon fire should rejoice. They have much to be grateful for.”He turned to gaze out at Dale and the fires that lit it in the night. “More stone,” he ordered. “Bring more stone to the gate!”

 

Bilbo stood there and watched the dwarves pile stone after stone upon the wall. Thorin would make this a fortress, but if war came, it would also be their tomb.

 

*

 

Zahra woke in the wee hours of the morning to find that the wall to hold out their enemies and imprison them had been completed while she slept. “What the hell?” she said.

 

“Do you see now?” Thorin said as he came up from behind her. She looked at him aghast. “Do you see? We will protect ourselves here, until help comes.”

 

“Help?” she repeated. “What help?” She grabbed him by his shoulders and spun him around. “Thorin, listen to me. You don’t have to keep them out. You can help them. They need your help.”

 

He shrugged off her hands. “You are a child. Young. Foolish. Idealistic. You know nothing of the world.”

 

“I know enough to know this isn’t right!” she said.

 

He moved past her and up the steps the dwarves had set up so they could walk to the top of the wall. She followed. As she stepped up, she felt a flicker at the edge of the Force and reached out to it. Elves. Elves in Dale. She stopped and growled beneath her breath, “Thranduil.”

 

Of course he would come. Of course he would take this opportunity to get those bloody jewels back. She remembered seeing Thorin hold up a silver and white necklace the other day. “The White Gems of Lasgalen,” he’d said. “I know an elf lord who would pay a pretty price for these.” Then he’d slammed the necklace back down, showering more white gems to the floor.

 

Snapping back into the here and now, she hurried up the steps. She swore under her breath at what she saw. Thranduil had come, and he’d brought an army with him. She could see the rising sun glinting off of golden armor, banners waving in the wind. Then she spotted a lone rider coming up the road from Dale. Zahra narrowed her gaze and recognized him. It was Bard, the man who’d tried to stop the Company from leaving Laketown and going to the Mountain. In retrospect, she wished he’d succeeded.

 

“The bargeman,” Thorin sneered.

 

She looked at him and then back to Bard. Filí and Kilí came up, followed by Dwalin. They leaned on the wall, relaxed and waiting, but she sensed the tension in them.

 

At the stone bridge, Bard stopped. “Hail, Thorin, son of Thrain. We are glad to find you alive beyond hope,” Bard called up, his eyes taking in the erected wall and the people atop it. His eyes rested on Zahra for a moment, before moving back to Thorin.

 

“Why do you come to the gates of the King Under the Mountain armed for war?” Thorin asked.

 

“Why does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in like a robber in his hold?” Bard shot back.

 

Zahra nodded. “Exactly,” she hissed to Thorin. He gave her a warning look.

 

To Bard, he said, “Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.”

 

“My lord,” Bard said, “we have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?”

 

Thorin thought about it then agreed. As they descended again, Thorin nodded to Balin, who released a raven. Cawing, it flew off, out of Erebor and into the east. What was that about?

 

Down below, Thorin stepped up to the wall, facing sideways. Bard stood on the other side, and leaned close. “I am listening,” Thorin said.

 

“On behalf of the people of Laketown,” Bard began, “I ask that you honor your pledge. A share in the treasure so that they may rebuild their lives.”

 

“I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door,” Thorin said, motioning with his chin to Dale beyond. Zahra felt her jaw drop. He’d been given a chance, a single chance to do the right thing, and he’d dismissed it.

 

“That armed host will attack this mountain if we do not come to terms,” Bard replied.

 

“And your threats do not sway me,” Thorin replied, with a regal tone. Zahra slapped her forehead with the palm of one hand. How? How could he do this?

 

“What of your conscience? Does it not tell you our cause is just?” Bard implored.

 

Yes! Yes it was just! Why couldn’t Thorin see that?

 

“My people offered you help,” Bard said. “And in return, you brought upon them only ruin and death.”

 

“When did the Men of Laketown come to our aid but for the promise of rich reward?” Thorin replied angrily.

 

“A bargain was struck!” Bard said as if he couldn’t believe Thorin was refusing.

 

“A bargain?” Thorin said. “What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom?” He made good points, Zahra could see that, and understand it. What promise wouldn’t be made for a chance at freedom? But still, how could he turn away a people who needed help just as he had so long ago? It was not right, it was not just. “You call that a fair trade? Tell me, Bard the Dragon-Slayer, why should I honor such terms?”

 

“Because you gave us your word,” Bard said with feeling. “Does that mean nothing?”

 

Thorin looked at him, then slid out of sight, leaning back against the wall. He looked up and saw the Company staring at him. “Be gone!” Thorin called out to Bard. “Ere our arrows fly!”

 

Zahra sensed Bard’s anger and felt him leave. The sound of galloping hoof beats reached their ears and she turned to Thorin.

 

“Once I said I knew better than to trust the word of Thorin Oakenshield,” she spat out. “I see nothing has changed.”

 

“What would you have me do?” Thorin asked. “Let them in and have us stripped bare?”

 

“Thorin, there is plenty of gold in this damn mountain!” she shouted, surprising all of them with the vehemence in her voice, including herself. “What do you need with all of it? For that matter, what do they need? They don’t want it all, just what you promised them! What they need more than anything is shelter and food and a warm place for their children and elderly to stay! Why are you so blind to it?” She stepped forward. “Just because you and your people were turned away again and again after Smaug came, doesn’t mean you should do the same! Let go of the past! All this hate isn’t good for anyone, least of all those homeless children out there! The past is the past. Remember it, but don’t let it rule you or your decisions! You must learn from it. That’s all anyone can do!”

 

“You think those Men have learned? Do you think those Elves have learned?” Thorin shot back.

 

“Humans have such short lives some of them are bound to learn from the past. And as for the elves, well, Thranduil is just an asshole. But your grandfather took something from him. Give him what he wants, and he will leave you be!”

 

“My grandfather--!” Thorin began.

 

She cut him off. “You are not your grandfather, Thorin!” she shouted, her patience wearing thin. “You’re not him, but if you don’t be careful, you will become just like him!” She stepped forward and put her hands on his shoulders. “Please, don’t let this lead to war. Gandalf called you proud, and you are. Do not let your pride cause more death.”

 

Thorin shrugged her off in agitation. “If you are so afraid, girl, then you can leave,” he growled, shocking everyone. “Go get that dragon’s scales, take them to your ship and leave.”

 

“And do what?” she replied, stepping back. “Leave you all? Like this?” At the look on his face, she bit back a sob. Faintly, she said, “You don’t mean that.”

 

“I do,” he said, and he turned to go to the top of the wall.

 

“You don’t!” she shouted. “Thorin--!”

 

He rounded on her. “What do you think I am?” he demanded. “Your father? Your own father doesn’t love you, what makes you think I do?”

 

Gasps from the Company reached her ears, but all Zahra could do was stare at Thorin in disbelief. Pain hit her heart and it took every ounce of power in her body not to cry. As it was, tears pooled in her eyes. She kept her eyes wide to stop them from falling.

 

“Zahra,” Kilí said, coming up beside her. His hand folded over hers and squeezed, but she didn’t respond. Bilbo came up to her other side, and took her other hand.

 

“He didn’t mean that, lass,” Dwalin said gently. “He—he didn’t mean it.”

 

“Didn’t mean it?” she said faintly. “DIDN’T MEAN IT?!” They flinched at the sound of her scream. She wrenched her hands from Bilbo and Kilí’s and held one out. Her pack slammed into it. “The fuck he didn’t!” She looked at Thorin, and it was like she was looking at a stranger. “I don’t know you anymore.” She shouldered her pack, moving around him, keeping a good distance between them, as she moved to the wall. “You want to stay here? Fine. Be my guest. Let this place be your tomb! Bard gave you a chance. I gave you several, and what did you do? You threw them all away, every one! Well, fuck you, Thorin Oakenshield. Fuck you!” And here came the tears. “I’m done. I wash my hands of you.” Looking past him, she looked at the others, at Bilbo, at Filí and Kilí, Balin, Dwalin, Oin and Gloin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, Dori, Nori and Ori. “I’m sorry,” she told them. “I wish this could be different, but I can’t stay here. I can’t.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried up the steps, crossed to the edge of the battlement and leaped over the side. With a shuddering breath, tears streaming down her face, she ran away from the Lonely Mountain.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra reunites with Gandalf and the two of them beseech Thranduil and Bard to stop a war. Meanwhile, Bilbo continues to fret. And Thorin's madness continues to grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Thranduil is so fun to write. :)

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked as they watched Zahra run away toward Dale. “You cannot go to war! And how could you have said that to her?!”

 

“This does not concern you,” Thorin said, gazing after her. 

 

“Excuse me, but in case you didn’t notice, there is an army of elves out there. Not to mention several hundred angry fishermen,” Bilbo said. “And you sent Zahra out there on her own!”

 

“She can take care of herself.”

 

“In the state she’s in, I hardly think so!” 

 

Thorin turned to him and glared. “I will regret what I said to the girl,” he said, not sounding the least bit remorseful, “but not what I said to the bargeman.”

 

“We are, in fact, outnumbered,” Bilbo said, trying to make him see reason. 

 

Thorin smirked. “Not for much longer.”

 

“What does that mean?” the Hobbit asked. 

 

“It means, Master Baggins, that you should never underestimate dwarves,” Thorin said, moving in front of him. 

 

Bilbo had no idea what he meant and Thorin moved on. “We have reclaimed Erebor,” he said. “Now, we defend it.”

 

Bilbo looked out after Zahra as the dwarves moved past, readying for war. Where would she go? What would she do? Did she really see Thorin as a surrogate father? He had no way to know now. 

 

A crash exploded and Bilbo turned to see that the dwarves had toppled a statue head and it had fallen to the bridge and destroyed it. No way in. No way out.

 

*

 

Later that evening, Bilbo watched the dwarves outfit themselves for war. He was standing off to the side, having no real intention to join in, when Thorin called to him, a coat of white chain mail draped in his hands. “Master Baggins, come here!”

 

Bilbo approached with caution. Thorin held out the coat to him. “You’re going to need this. Put it on.”

 

Bilbo took off his blue coat.

 

“This vest is made of silver steel,” Thorin explained, holding it up to look through. “Mithril it was called by my forebears.” 

 

Bilbo looked up sharply. “Mithril?” he repeated. “Isn’t this what Zahra needs for her ship?” A shadow flitted across Thorin’s face but was soon gone. 

 

“It is,” Thorin said. “No blade can pierce it.”

 

Bilbo slipped it on with Thorin’s help. The rest of the Company had paused to watch “I look absurd. I’m not a warrior, I’m a Hobbit.”

 

“It is a gift,” Thorin said. “A token of our friendship.” Thorin glanced at the Company who’d gone back to their tasks of putting on their armor. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, “True friends are hard to come by.” He grabbed Bilbo’s shoulder and led him away from the others. “I have been blind but now I begin to see.” Hope sparked in Bilbo’s chest. Was Thorin going to admit he’d been wrong all along? That Zahra was right and they should help the people of the lake? “I am betrayed.”

 

Bilbo’s heart stuttered, stopped, and started again, beating tenfold. “Betrayed?” he said, glad that they were speaking in whispers; he doubted his voice could have sounded any higher beyond a whisper. 

 

“The Arkenstone,” Thorin growled. He stepped closer, setting Bilbo’s heart hammering in fear. “One of them has taken it. One of them is false.”

 

Bilbo swallowed. He needed to make Thorin see reason. Somehow. “Thorin, the quest is fulfilled, you’ve won the Mountain. Is that not enough?”

 

But Thorin didn’t seem to be listening. “Betrayed by my own kin.”

 

“Now, uh, you made a promise to the people of Laketown,” Bilbo said. “Now is this treasure truly worth more than your honor? Our honor, Thorin. I was also there. I gave my word.”

 

“For that, I am grateful.”

 

Bilbo took the chance. “Zahra gave her word too, Thorin.”

 

Something akin to shame spread over Thorin’s face. “I know,” he said.

 

“If you apologized to her, I’m sure she would forgive you,” Bilbo said. 

 

“No,” Thorin said. “She won’t.” He looked at Bilbo sharply. “It was nobly done, but the treasure in this mountain does not belong to the people of Laketown. This gold,” he paused and breathed, panted, really, “is ours. And ours alone.” He stepped back from Bilbo to allow room for the armored dwarves to pass through. “And I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it.” Those words Bilbo had heard spoken before. By Smaug. As the dwarves filed past, Bilbo couldn’t look away from Thorin as a plan formed in his mind. He wished there was another way. But he could see no other. 

 

*

 

Zahra had wondered for several hours after leaving the Mountain, intending to go to Dale, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it just yet. Thranduil would be there. It grated her that he would see her face and know, immediately, who had hurt her. She could feel her emotions written plainly on her face and no matter how she walked, how she reached out to the Force to aid her, she couldn’t calm down. The words that Thorin had hurled so casually at her had landed like blaster bolts on her heart. And knowing that Thranduil would see them was another blow. He would sneer. He would laugh. She wished Gandalf was here. 

 

More than that, she wished her Master was here. 

 

As the sun began to fall, she found herself looking to the mountain more and more, but heading into Dale. She didn’t try to sneak, but she passed through undetected, her hood up over her head to hide her face from any who would recognize her. She stretched out with the Force, searching for Thranduil. She found him and also….

 

She broke into a run, her hood falling down. Men and women dodged out of her way. Elves turned to watch her go, some starting to follow. She ran faster, outpacing them. She came across a tent made of pale tawny fabric. She burst into it. “Gandalf!” she shouted. 

 

He whirled around. Thranduil stood up from behind his desk and waved off the elves that had followed her in. Bard was there too and he stared in shock. 

 

Ignoring them, she flung her pack down and threw herself at Gandalf. He hugged her back laughing. “Zahra Rivers! My dear girl, what are you doing here?” His hands landed on her back and she gasped. “My dear girl, what is it?” Gandalf asked releasing her at once.

 

“I’d forgotten,” she said. “My back is all bruised up. Smaug threw me off several times.” She gave the wizard a sheepish look. 

 

“Perhaps a healer could take a look?” Thranduil suggested. 

 

She opened her mouth to refuse, but Gandalf accepted the offer. “That would be an excellent idea, my lord.”

 

“Smaug threw you off?” Bard asked her, after Thranduil called out in Elvish. 

 

“Yes, twice,” she said. 

 

“He had an eye missing,” Bard said looking thoughtful.

 

“You killed him, right?” she said. 

 

He nodded. “I did,” he said. He smiled. “I don’t think it would have been so easy if you hadn’t wounded him first.”

 

“How many blows did you get in?” Thranduil asked, reseating himself. 

 

“Three,” she said. “One on his back, one on his belly and, of course, I took one of his eyes.”

 

“Impressive,” he said. Thranduil’s keen gaze searched her face and he frowned. “Something happened, didn’t it? Between you and Thorin Oakenshield.” 

 

Even though she’d been expecting it, she still flinched in shock. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said, looking away from him. 

 

But they all knew now. But before they could ask, an elf appeared at the tent’s entrance. He spoke in Elvish, bowing to his king. 

 

“The girl is in need of healing,” Thranduil said in Basic. “See to her.”

 

The elf, a tall red-headed male, stepped forward. “Where are you hurt, child?” he asked kindly. 

 

“My back,” she said. Then she looked around, realizing she was standing in a tent with four men. 

 

The healer nodded. “Please lift your shirt.” He set a bag down and stepped forward.

 

“Excuse me?” she said. 

 

“Your shirt,” he said. “Please lift it so I may examine you.”

 

“Don’t be shy,” Gandalf said. “You’re quite safe here, Zahra.”

 

“I’m not afraid!” she snapped. She looked at the four men. “Just, er. Look, I don’t mind you,”—she pointed at the healer—“seeing, er, anything. Or even Gandalf. But you two!” She pointed at Thranduil and Bard. Bard started and Thranduil merely looked bored. “You need to leave.”

 

“This is my tent,” Thranduil said spreading his hands. 

 

“Well at least turn your back!” she said. 

 

He sighed and heaved himself up. “Fine,” he said. He stood to the side of his tent and kept his back to her. Bard turned around hastily too.

 

“And somebody close the tent flaps!” she ordered. Gandalf did. Grumbling under her breath, Zahra pulled off her robe, and dropped her belt. She pulled off her outer tunic and then turned her back to Gandalf and the healer. Reaching around behind her, she pulled up her undershirt and revealed her bruises. She’d completely forgotten about her wounds. The past few days, her mind had been wrapped up in worry for Thorin, the people of Laketown and the possibility of war, that all other things, even her own health, had drifted from her mind.

 

So when Gandalf and the healer reacted to her bruises, she didn’t know quite what to expect. 

 

“Oh, Zahra!” Gandalf breathed as the elf-healer gasped in shock. “Why did you not let Oin take a look at this?”

 

“Honestly I’d completely forgotten about it,” she said. A cool hand gently brushed against her spine and she gasped loudly in pain. 

 

“I suggest you lay on the cot,” the healer said. “It’ll be easier.”

 

She dropped her shirt and did as he bid, lying down stomach first. The healer helped her to pull her shirt up, being sure to keep her modesty intact. 

 

“You say Smaug threw you off,” Gandalf began. 

 

“Yes,” she said her voice a little muffled as it was turned away facing the wall of the tent.

 

“What did you hit?” Gandalf asked as the elf began to murmur in his own language and the pains in her back began to ebb away. 

 

“Um,” she turned her head and saw the backs of Thranduil and Bard, and Gandalf’s gray robes at the corner of her eye. She glanced back and looked at the elf. His eyes were closed, his murmurs low and distant. “The first time I landed on a pile of gold. The second time my back hit a wall.”

 

“You’re very fortunate that nothing was broken!” Gandalf exclaimed. 

 

“It was the will of the Force,” she said. 

 

“Force? What Force?” Gandalf asked. 

 

She quickly explained the Force to them, basically repeating what she’d told the dwarves and Bilbo. 

 

“Well, that certainly explains some things,” Gandalf said after a pause.

 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she mumbled. 

 

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he said, waving off her apology. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

 

The healer finished shortly after and he brewed a cup of tea for healing. She sat up, her shirt falling down her healed back, and took it from him. Thranduil and Bard turned back around and watched as she gulped it down. “Thank you,” she said to the healer handing him back the wooden cup. 

 

“You’re quite welcome,” he said with a kindly smile. He packed up his things, bowed to his king, and left. 

 

“And thank you, too,” she said to Thranduil. He nodded, retaking his seat at the desk. 

 

Zahra grabbed her outer tunic and pulled it on. Her belt followed and then her robe. She sat on the cot again, her pack by her feet. Looking up at Gandalf, she waited. 

 

“My dear,” he said. “What caused you to leave the dwarves?”

 

She sighed. “Thorin is being an idiot,” she said. “Gandalf that mountain is cursed. Darkness dwells there, the dark side of the Force. The very air is thick with it. He—Thorin—he, Gandalf, it’s driving him mad.” Gandalf frowned heavily. 

 

“What did I tell you?” Thranduil said. “We should attack now while we have the advantage and just annihilate them.”

 

“No!” she said, looking at him. “There doesn’t need to be a war!”

 

“Whether you want it or not, war is where we’re heading,” Thranduil said. 

 

She sneered at him. “Would anything change your mind?” 

 

“My jewels,” he said. “I take it you don’t have them with you.”

 

“No, I don’t,” she said, sullen. 

 

“Then we have nothing more to discuss.” Thranduil shrugged delicately. 

 

She gritted her teeth and looked back at Gandalf. She finally noticed his appearance. He was bloodied and bruised, his clothes torn in several places and his hair was in desperate need of a wash. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked him. “You look like crap.”

 

Gandalf snorted. “Thank you for the analogy, Zahra,” he said. “In fact, I’ve been on a little adventure of my own.” And he proceeded to tell her and Thranduil and Bard about this “little adventure”.

 

“I told you there was something wrong on this planet,” she said looking from Gandalf to Thranduil, but the latter didn’t seem to agree. He rolled his eyes. 

 

“Oh come now!” Gandalf said. “You must put aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You’re all in mortal danger!”

 

“Listen to him!” Zahra said standing and moving up beside the wizard. “Even Smaug said darkness was coming, that it would spread across every corner of the land. I’ve felt it for weeks now, in the forest, in the mountain. Even now I feel it, growing and spreading and reaching out with black claws to smother us.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Bard said, looking between them.

 

“I can see you know nothing of wizards,” Thranduil said, standing. He poured two cups of wine, keeping one and handing the other to Bard. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm.”

 

“And sometimes it isn’t. Honestly. Why do you elves always talk in riddles?” Zahra exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

 

“She’s right; it’s not just a storm. Not this time,” Gandalf said. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”

 

“Why show his hand now?” Thranduil asked. 

 

“Because we forced him!” Gandalf exclaimed. “We forced him when the Company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland.” At the mention of Thorin, Zahra’s heart skipped and she looked away from the three men. Gandalf moved to the tent’s opening, looking out at the mountain. “The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor. Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them.” He walked out and the others followed him. “His master seeks control of the Mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, its strategic position.” He gestured towards it. Zahra stared up at it with a longing deep in her soul that she didn’t quite understand. “This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lorién, the Shire, even Gondor itself, will fall.”

 

“These orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir, where are they?” Thranduil asked.

 

“Can’t you just believe him?” Zahra pleaded, spinning around away from the mountain to face them. “If Gandalf says an army of orcs is on its way, then it’s on its way!” 

 

Thranduil looked at her coolly. “Forgive me, Zahra, if I don’t believe him. The enemy was defeated, not once, but twice now.” 

 

“But his army still exists! What’s to stop them from attacking? You think they’re afraid of you?” She looked at Bard. “Of any of you?”

 

Bard looked conflicted. Thranduil appeared doubtful. He turned and swept back into his tent. Zahra looked at Gandalf. He shrugged. “We tried, my dear Zahra. That’s all we can do.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her to his side. Together, they looked out at the mountain as the sun fell to the west and night crept in.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this!

Bilbo chose his moment to escape carefully. Thorin was back in the treasure room, going through it piece by piece, and the rest of the dwarves were distracted as well, either by sleep, talk, or food. He looped a rope around a post, tied it off and got ready to throw the other end over the side. Just as he was about to, Bofur spoke. “You should be inside. Out of the wind.”

 

Bilbo turned, startled… and a little guilty. “No, I, uh, needed some air. Place still stinks of dragon.” 

 

Bofur looked at him, obviously not believing, but not saying anything either. He looked out at Dale. “The elves have been moving their archers into position. The battle will be over by tomorrow’s eve. Though I doubt we will live to see it.” Bilbo looked at him. 

 

“No, these are dark days,” Bilbo said. 

 

Bofur smiled. “Dark days indeed. No one could blame a soul for wishing themselves elsewhere. Look at Zahra. She left. We miss her, but we don’t condemn her. Thorin said a terrible thing, and I know he regrets it. But I don’t think she’s coming back.” He came closer and looked up. “Must be nearing midnight. Bombur’s got the next watch. It’ll take a bit to wake him.” 

 

Bilbo realized what Bofur was doing. He was giving him the chance to get out. The hat-wearing dwarf started down the stone steps. “Bofur?” Bilbo said, and he looked back. “I will see you in the morning.” The words were a promise the Hobbit intended to keep.

 

Bofur smiled. “Goodbye, Bilbo,” he said kindly and with finality. He walked on. 

 

Bilbo watched after him a moment, then went to his rope. He threw it over the side and scurried down it. At the bottom, he hopped over the rocks and made for Dale. 

 

*

 

Zahra was sitting on a stone step using a stick to make shapes in the snow. She was trying very hard not to think about the dwarves and Bilbo, but it was difficult. Her mind kept running over her last conversation with Thorin. She had been aware that she was beginning to see him as a father-figure (even before Thranduil’s taunts in Mirkwood), though she hadn’t admitted to herself, but as soon as he’d said that, the truth of his words had shot through her. He was right. And that made his rejection all the more painful. 

 

“Hi,” a girl said, plopping down next to her. 

 

Zahra glanced over. The girl was probably about ten or eleven, or maybe younger, it was hard to tell. She was a pretty girl, with bright blue eyes and medium brown hair. Her blue dress had seen better days, though, as had her shoes. Zahra smiled at her. “Hello,” she said. 

 

“I’m Tilda. Who are you?”

 

“Zahra Rivers.”

 

“Do you know my Da? He’s called Bard.”

 

“Bard the bargeman?” 

 

She laughed. “No! Bard the Dragon-Slayer!”

 

Zahra laughed too. “Yes, I know him. I was just speaking to him and King Thranduil and Gandalf the Gray.”

 

Tilda’s eyes went wide. “Wow. You must be important.”

 

Zahra shrugged. “Not really.” Seeing the girl made her remember the small one she had encountered when her boat had arrived in Lake-town. Had she survived? Zahra swallowed, afraid to ask and hear the answer.

 

“You were with the dwarves,” another voice said. 

 

“I was,” Zahra said without looking around. She’d noticed the other two children coming up behind them. They’d thought they were being stealthy, but they weren’t. 

 

“This is my sister, Sigrid, and my brother, Bain,” Tilda introduced. The two older children came around. The older girl looked to be Zahra’s age and the boy was a few years younger. They both had brown hair, though the boy’s was much darker, closer to Bard’s color. 

 

“Nice to meet you,” Zahra said. 

 

They greeted her in return. 

 

“Your name is very peculiar,” Tilda said. 

 

“Tilda! That’s not a nice thing to say,” Sigrid admonished. 

 

Zahra smiled. “It’s okay,” she assured Sigrid. To Tilda she said, “I’m not from around here.”

 

“Where are you from?” Bain asked, sitting beside her. 

 

Zahra’s smile grew. “Far away,” she said. 

 

“Do you know any stories?” Tilda blurted, out of nowhere, with the impulsiveness that only children could have. 

 

“Hundreds,” she replied. “Although I don’t think you’d really like them. They’re about people and places far removed from Middle-Earth.”

 

Before Tilda could say anything else, Gandalf interrupted them. 

 

“Excuse me, children, but I have need of Zahra’s company at the moment,” he said. 

 

Tilda pouted. Zahra patted her shoulder. “I’ll tell you a story another time,” she said. 

 

“Promise?” Tilda asked hopefully. 

 

“I promise,” Zahra said. Then, with another smile at the three of them, she stood and followed after Gandalf. “What is it, Gandalf?” 

 

“King Thranduil and Bard are beginning to make battle plans,” Gandalf said grimly. “We must try to convince them of a different route.”

 

Zahra paused and pulled the wizard up short. “Gandalf, I don’t see us convincing Thranduil of anything. His mind is as made up as Thorin’s. As for Bard, well, I can’t blame him for what he’s doing. He’s just trying to keep his people safe, and the safest place for them is Erebor. No matter how we may look at it, Thorin is in the wrong here, at least when it comes to the people of Laketown. For the record, I couldn’t give one flying piece of bantha fodder about those gems Thranduil wants.”

 

Gandalf chuckled. “I’m glad you think so,” he said. “But we mustn’t give up, not just yet. If there is a way to stave off war among the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth, then we must find it. The orcs are all our enemy. We must convince Thranduil and Bard that the threat they pose is real and immediate.”

 

Zahra sighed. “I’ll help you,” she said, “though I doubt it’ll do any good.” 

 

*

 

It wasn’t going well. They seemed to be locked in a circuitous debate with Gandalf losing ground. 

 

“Since when has my counsel counted for so little?” he asked heavily, waving his pipe around. He’d pulled it out and begun smoking it around an hour ago. “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Zahra was in a chair, leaning back and balancing it with ease on its two back legs. Bard was watching her with barely disguised fascination. 

 

“I think you—both of you—are trying to save your Dwarvish friends,” Thranduil said. (“And since when is that a crime?” Zahra shot back, going ignored.) “And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not dissuade me from my course.” Thranduil stood from his chair. “You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it.”

 

“By letting innocent people die?” Zahra cried. 

 

“If necessary,” Thranduil said. “But when we succeed, their deaths will not have been in vain.” He strode from the tent. “Are the archers in position?”

 

“Yes, my lord,” someone answered. Zahra thought his name was Feren.

 

“Give the order,” Thranduil said. “If anything moves on that Mountain, kill it.”

 

There was a thump as Zahra let her chair fall back down. She stood. “You can’t do that!”

 

Thranduil looked at her over his shoulder. “I just did.” He gazed up at the Mountain. “The dwarves are out of time.”

 

Gandalf turned to Bard who had gone outside to speak with some of his men. “Bowman!” Gandalf said and Bard turned. “Do you agree with this?” Zahra came up behind them and looked at Bard earnestly. “Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?”

 

“It will not come to that,” Bard said. 

 

“You sound like you really believe that,” Zahra said. 

 

“I do,” Bard replied. “This is a fight they cannot win.”

 

Zahra sensed him a second before he spoke. “That won’t stop them.” Bilbo ran up. “You think the dwarves will surrender? They won’t. They will fight to the death to defend their own.” 

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said, astounded at his appearance. 

 

Bilbo smiled at him, and spotted Zahra just as she was rushing forward. She picked him up and hugged him tight, putting him back down only when he made a gasping sound for air. He blushed furiously, avoiding looking at the people watching. He was escorted inside of the tent by Bard. Gandalf and Zahra followed closely behind. 

 

“If I am not mistaken, this is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards,” Thranduil said. He shot Zahra a glare and she smiled at him, smug. 

 

“Yes,” Bilbo lisped, looking contrite. “Sorry about that.” Bard was looking amused, while the Elven King looked—well, he was keeping his face blank, but the anger was there, just below the surface. “I came to give you this.” Bilbo stepped forward and pulled an object covered in hide from inside his coat. He set it on the desk in front of Thranduil and uncovered it. The Arkenstone. 

 

All eyes lit on it and the greed in Thranduil’s was obvious. “The Heart of the Mountain,” Thranduil breathed. “The King’s Jewel.”

 

“And worth a king’s ransom,” Bard said, coming closer. 

 

Zahra looked down at Bilbo. He bore a conflicted expression. She patted his shoulder, commiserating in silence with him. He looked up and gave her a brief smile before it faded again. 

 

Bard and Thranduil turned to him. “How is this yours to give?” Bard asked. 

 

“I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure,” Bilbo stated. Zahra smiled. 

 

“You clever thing,” she said, ruffling his curly hair. She looked at Gandalf and the wizard looked close to tears, there was so much pride beaming in his eyes. 

 

“Why would you do this?” Bard asked. “You owe us no loyalty.”

 

Bilbo glanced at Zahra before he spoke. “I’m not doing it for you,” he said. “I know—we both know—,” he gestured to Zahra, “that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They’re suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners possibly imaginable, but they are also brave and kind… and loyal to a fault. I’ve grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I could.”

 

“Same goes for me,” Zahra said. “They are not evil. They’re just… afraid. Can’t you say the same?” Bard looked between them, thinking. 

 

“Now, Thorin,” Bilbo said after a moment, putting his hand on the Arkenstone, “values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war.”

 

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other. “We must deliberate,” Thranduil said, dismissing them. 

 

*

 

“You know,” Zahra said, “when I told you it was your decision what to do with the Arkenstone, I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this.” She and Bilbo were sitting on a bench, watching the people of Laketown busy about like bees (Bilbo’s analogy) while Gandalf did wizardly things. 

 

“Are you disappointed?” Bilbo asked her. 

 

“Disappointed?” she repeated, looking at him. She smiled. “Oh, no, Bilbo. I’m very proud of you. It’s a very brave thing what you did. I just hope you don’t regret it.”

 

“I won’t,” he said, shaking his head with determination. “I just wanted to stop this war from happening. No one has to die.”

 

“Then, if you’ve succeeded, you’ve done what Gandalf and I could not,” she said. She leaned back against the wall behind them. Bilbo followed suit. “But war is coming,” she added, “though hopefully not from ourselves.”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

 

She told him of Gandalf’s “adventure” and about the orc armies on their way. The little Hobbit was pale in the moonlight. 

 

“Oh, dear,” he said. 

 

“My sentiments exactly,” she agreed. “Tomorrow, no matter what happens, will be hell.”

 

“Thorin is confident,” Bilbo said. “He’s planning something.”

 

“What?” 

 

“I don’t know. But, it can’t be good.” Bilbo sighed. 

 

They sat side by side for a long moment in silence. 

 

“He’s sorry, you know,” Bilbo said after a moment. “He said he regrets it…what he said.”

 

“I don’t care if he’s sorry or if he regrets it,” she replied quietly. “The point is he said it.”

 

“Is it true? That you see him that way?” he asked just as quietly. 

 

“Yes,” she replied. 

 

Bilbo took her hand in his and they sat there like that until Gandalf returned. He beckoned to them and they went to him, hand in hand. “Rest up tonight,” the wizard said. “You must leave on the morrow.”

 

“What?” Bilbo said. 

 

“Get as far away from here as possible—both of you,” Gandalf said. 

 

“I’m not leaving,” Bilbo said. “You picked me as the fourteenth man. I’m not leaving the Company.”

 

“Neither am I,” Zahra declared. “I have unfinished business with Thorin Oakenshield. Come hell or high water, I will speak with him again.”

 

“There is no Company. Not anymore. And Thorin is lost to us,” Gandalf said. “Imagine what Thorin will do when he finds out what you’ve done.”

 

“I’m not afraid of Thorin,” Bilbo said. 

 

“Neither am I,” Zahra repeated.

 

Gandalf turned to them. “Well, you should be,” he said. “Don’t underestimate the evil of gold. Gold over which a serpent has long brooded. Dragon-sickness seeps into the hearts of all who come near this Mountain. Almost all. Heh.” He smiled at them. 

 

Gandalf led them on. “You there.” The greasy man, the Master’s former right hand, came up, looking annoyed. “Find these two some beds and fill their bellies with hot food. They’ve earned it.” 

 

The man, Alfrid, led them to a room with two cots and left them, ostensibly to get them some food. 

 

Alone again, Zahra faced Bilbo. “You’re leaving now or in the morning?” she asked. 

 

Bilbo laughed. “I think I deserve a few hours of sleep at least,” he said. “I’ll go early tomorrow morning.”

 

She nodded and when Alfrid returned, they ate and then went to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The army of men and elves confront the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Zahra has had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks!
> 
> This is not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Zahra woke cold and alone. Bilbo had gone, returned to whatever fate awaited him in Erebor. Zahra slipped from her cot and out of the room. It was quiet. Too quiet.

 

Zahra moved quickly through the city looking for someone, anyone, to tell her what was going on. Only, there was no one. She closed her eyes and reached out to the Force and realized why. The armies had moved out to the battle field. The women, children, elderly and injured of Laketown were confined to one part of the city. Then darkness came up over her, sweeping up from beneath her feet. Zahra’s eyes snapped open. For a long beat, she stood there, reeling.

 

Then she took off running, heading out of the city, the bottom of her robe waving out behind her.

 

*

 

She raced through the long lines of gold-armored elves, pulling to a stop when she saw Thranduil and Bard up ahead. Looking up, she saw Thorin and the rest of the Company standing on the wall, dressed in armor. Her heart gave a squeeze in her chest but she paid it no mind. There was no sign of Bilbo yet, but she could sense him inside.

 

She paused next to Feren and waited, listening. It seemed she’d arrived just in time to see the beginnings of this madness.

 

As Thranduil on a giant deer (she wasn’t quite sure what that was) and Bard on his horse rode up, Thorin lifted his bow and shot an arrow at them. It hit the ground, halting the elf and man. “I will put the next one through your eye,” Thorin warned. The Company cheered. Zahra shook her head as if that alone would halt whatever was coming next.

 

Thranduil raised a hand and, all around her, the elves moved as one, pulling an arrow free from the quiver at their sides and pointing it directly up at the dwarves, who all grew silent and ducked down, except for Thorin. “We have come to tell you payment of your debt has been offered and accepted,” Thranduil said.

 

Zahra’s heart began to pound uncomfortably in her chest. She bit her tongue, awaiting Thorin’s reply.

 

“What payment?” Thorin shouted. “I gave you nothing. You have nothing.”

 

Thranduil looked to Bard. The Dragon-Slayer pulled from inside his coat the one thing Thorin desired above all else: the Arkenstone. “We have this.”

 

Thorin began to lower his bow and the rest of the dwarves began to shout in disbelief.

 

“They have the Arkenstone,” Kilí said. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house?”

 

“That stone belongs to the King!” Filí called.

 

“And the king may have it, with our goodwill,” Bard said. He tossed the stone flippantly, caught it and tucked it back out of sight. “But first he must honor his word.”

 

It wasn’t going to work. Zahra knew it. Thorin shook his head and murmured to the others, something she couldn’t hear. Then he called down, “The Arkenstone is in this Mountain! It is a trick!”

 

“It’s no trick,” Bilbo said, appearing behind them.

 

Zahra’s heart beat faster, faster than she thought possible. Bilbo. He was going to get himself killed. The others turned to him.

 

“The stone is real,” the Hobbit continued. “I gave it to them.”

 

Zahra couldn’t see Thorin’s face clearly, but she could read his emotions. He didn’t want this to be true, but he knew it was. Rage and betrayal roiled within him, heating up into a flame of contempt. She made to move forward but Feren caught her arm and shook his head. She stepped back again.

 

“You?” Thorin said.

 

“I took it as my fourteenth share,” Bilbo said.

 

“You would steal from me?” Thorin said.

 

“Steal from you? No. No, I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one,” Bilbo said. Zahra was too afraid for him to laugh or smile at his joke. “I’m willing to let it stand against my claim.”

 

“Against your claim?” Thorin repeated, laughingly, like he found the Hobbit’s audacity almost precious. He scoffed. “Your claim. You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!” He shouted throwing down his bow and taking a menacing step forward.

 

“I was going to give it to you,” Bilbo said, finally losing his patience. “Many times I wanted to, but—.”

 

“But what, _thief_?” Thorin accused.

 

Bilbo glared. “You are changed, Thorin. The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word. He would never have been so cruel to a child who has been nothing but helpful and kind on this quest. Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!” Zahra’s eyes widened at that last. She felt the shock that had been building in the rest of the Company ripple into disbelief. She bit her lip, sorry for them, and wanting nothing better than to knock Thorin upside his head until he came back to his senses.

 

“Do not speak to me of loyalty!” Thorin said. His face twisted into a pantomime of pain, almost as if he would cry. “Throw him from the rampart!” Zahra’s heart lurched in her chest. Bilbo looked up, shocked. No one moved. Thorin looked around. “Did you not hear me?” He grabbed Filí and started to drag him over to Bilbo but the young prince fought him off. Rebuffed, Thorin whirled and went for Bilbo. “I will do it myself. Curse you!” He dragged Bilbo over to the edge.

 

“No!” Filí said, grabbing for Bilbo.

 

“Cursed be the wizard who forced you on this Company!” Thorin shouted as the others fought him to keep Bilbo safe.

 

“If you don’t like my burglar,” Gandalf’s voice thundered as the wizard strode past, making her jump, “then please, don’t harm him. Return him to me.”

 

Zahra ducked past Feren and moved to Gandalf’s side. Thorin stared down at them. “You.” He narrowed his eyes. “Come back have you, girl?”

 

“For Bilbo, yes.” Zahra glared up, ignoring the swiveled heads of Bard, Thranduil and Gandalf. “Don’t hurt him, Thorin. Give him back to us.”

 

“You’re not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?” Gandalf said. Zahra moved closer, between Thranduil and Bard.

 

Thorin released Bilbo. She moved then. With one great leap, she landed on the edge of the wall in a crouch in front of Thorin. He jerked back. Zahra reached down and picked up Bilbo. “Why can’t you just give them what they want?” she whispered to Thorin. “Why must this end in bloodshed?”

 

He glared. “Go on back to the wizard and your new friends,” he hissed. “You are welcome here no more.”

 

She looked at him for a moment in silence then breathed in deep. “I’m a Jedi, Thorin,” she said low, so only the dwarves and Bilbo could hear her. “Do you know what that means? It means I must fight against injustice. And what I see here is injustice. Which makes us enemies; you, me, and all your kin. Do you want that?”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

Zahra sighed, fighting her tears, but no longer caring if anyone saw them. She stood and pushed off form the wall, holding Bilbo tight. They somersaulted and twisted in the air and she landed in a crouch in front of Gandalf. She released Bilbo and he stepped away looking a little green, from the jaunt through the air or from nearly being killed by Thorin, it was hard to tell. She stood.

 

“You are an insolent little girl!” Thorin shouted out to her, finally, as if he’d just thought of a comeback.

 

Zahra whirled and glared up at him, shouting in reply, putting all the pain of the last few days into her voice, “And you are an old man driven mad by greed! I trusted you, Thorin, I believed in you! You gave the people of Laketown your word and I vouched for you. Bilbo vouched for you!” Tears brimming down her face, she continued, “What liars you’ve made of us!” Thranduil and Bard were staring at her. Bilbo took her hand and Gandalf put his on her shoulder. “After all we’ve been through, you can’t do this one thing? This one, simple thing? Give these people what they need and deserve! Please!”

 

Thorin was staring down at her as if he’d never seen her before. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

 

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards! Or children!” Thorin shouted. “Or Shire rats.” A bad thing then.

 

Zahra turned away and looked out over the army of elves, her gaze distant. She’d tried. Again and again, she’d tried. All to no use.

 

“Are we resolved?” Bard called after a pause. “The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?”

 

Thorin glanced east. He began to pace, agitation in every line of his stout body. “Why should I buy back what is rightfully mine?”

 

“Keep the stone, sell it,” Thranduil said to Bard, goading Thorin even more. “Ecthelion of Gondor will give you a good price for it.”

 

“I will kill you!” Thorin shouted. “By my oath, I will kill you all!”

 

Zahra turned around, anger flashing in her eyes. “Come on and do it then!” she shouted, startling the others. “You want a fight? I’ll give you one, you miserable coward! Come on, what are you waiting for? You won’t win against me, and you know it!”

 

“Your oath means nothing,” Thranduil taunted him, completely ignoring her. She shot him a glare. “I’ve heard enough.” Thranduil nodded behind him. The elves stood to attention, prepared for the fight ahead.

 

“Thorin, lay down your arms!” Gandalf called, desperate. “Open these doors. This treasure will be your death.” He whispered the last, and Zahra felt a prickle of unease down her spine.

 

Balin murmured to Thorin, but she couldn’t make it out. Whatever it was seemed to sway the king. Or almost sway him.

 

“Give us your answer,” Bard said. “Will you have peace or war?”

 

It was then that a giant raven flew to the top of the wall. Thorin looked at it, then east. “I will have war,” he said.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dain arrives. The battle begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm sorry I wasn't able to post for the a while. Life happens. And it may be a bit more difficult for me to post for the foreseeable future. I'm gong to be very busy and other things may take priority over this story. I won't give up on it, I promise. But updates may be sporadic.

“You idiot!” Zahra shouted at Thorin.

 

Then she heard it: the tramping of steel-incased feet sounding from the east like the distant rumble of thunder. She turned, as did everyone else. The dwarves on the Mountain took up a cheer as an army of their kin came over the hillside. “Oh, no,” Zahra moaned, looking at them.

 

“Ironfoot,” Gandalf breathed.

 

Thranduil shouted in Elvish and the army began to turn to face their enemy. He and Bard rode down through the ranks, preparing to do battle.

 

“Hey, Thorin!” a dwarf shouted, from the front of the dwarven army. He appeared to be riding some kind of giant pig. A mane of wild red hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, his beard just as fiery. “Ironfoot has come!”

 

“What a way to introduce himself,” Zahra muttered. She, Bilbo and Gandalf began to move east with the Elven army.

 

“Who is that?” Bilbo asked. “He doesn’t look very happy.”

 

“It is Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin’s cousin,” Gandalf said.

 

“Are they alike?” Bilbo asked.

 

“I’ve always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two,” Gandalf replied.

 

“Well, that doesn’t bode well,” Zahra said.

 

“No. It does not,” Gandalf said.

 

Dain rode his battle-pig down to a small knoll that jutted out from the hill. “Good morning,” he said congenially. “How are we all? I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider just sodding off?! All of you! Right now!” His shout made the Lakemen flinch and back up; the elves drew their swords, ready to attack. Zahra sighed. Yes, Thorin would be preferable to this lunatic.

 

“Stand fast!” Bard ordered. The Lakemen took a tentative step, bracing themselves.

 

“Come now, Lord Dain,” Gandalf said stepping forward. Zahra followed him, staying close, but a pace behind.

 

“Gandalf the Gray,” Dain said, his tone mocking.

 

“He doesn’t look happy to see you,” Zahra murmured as Gandalf bowed his head.

 

“Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood!” Dain called out.

 

“Oh, lovely imagery!” she shouted back, unable to help herself.

 

“And who is this child?” Dain said, pointing his war hammer at her.

 

“I am Zahra Rivers,” she said, bowing her head as Gandalf had. “And if you don’t mind, and I feel I can speak for everyone here when I say this, why don’t you just fuck off!” A hush fell over everyone as they waited.

 

Dain’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you to talk to me like that?”

 

She shrugged. “I’m a Jedi.”

 

“Never heard of them,” Dain countered.

 

“No, I don’t expect you would have. You see, I’m not from Middle-earth, not even from this planet. And, just so you know, there is no chance of you defeating me,” she said, standing tall. “I’m far too powerful for you.”

 

Dain laughed, long and hard. He waved his war hammer at her. “Don’t be stupid, girl! I am the Lord of the Iron Hills! I can defeat anything.”

 

“Well, you’re certainly cockier than Thorin,” she replied. “But I still like him better. Although that’s not saying much in present circumstances.”

 

Gandalf decided to interject then. “There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves,” he said, striding into the no man’s land. Zahra followed. She closed her eyes as she stopped and reached out to the Force. It flowed into every cell, every membrane, and every atom that made up her existence. Peace filled her being. She was in command of herself and of the Force in a way that she never had been before. She opened her eyes and it was as if the whole world had come into focus. Everything was clearer, sharper, the contrasts of light and shadow more apparent. She could feel everything, all the life in the vicinity, the grass, the trees, and the rock beneath her feet, even the elves, men and dwarves. How brightly they shined. Gandalf shined brighter than all. The thrumming of the Mountain played at the back of her mind… and something else. Something was moving in the darkness far below. She’d sensed it in Dale, she remembered now. No one knew what was coming. She looked up at Dain. Not even this idiot.

 

“A legion of orcs march on the mountain,” Gandalf was saying. “Stand your army down.”

 

“I will not stand down before any elf,” Dain replied. “Not least this faithless Woodland Sprite.” He looked at Thranduil. “He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I’ll split his pretty head open!” Thranduil smiled. “See if he’s still smirking then!” He pulled his pig around and began to trot up the hillside again.

 

Zahra watched him go then looked at Gandalf, who shouted, “Dain, wait!” to no avail. She pushed her robe off, and stood tall. Gandalf watched, his bushy gray eyebrows twitching in surprise. “Remember what I said?” she asked him. He looked confused. “I have the Force. It guides me, strengthens me. I can handle this.” She looked back at Bard and Thranduil. “Keep your armies back! I’ll deal with Dain.”

 

“Zahra, he’s Thorin’s cousin!” Bilbo said.

 

“I don’t care,” she replied. “He wants a fight; I’ll give him one he’ll never forget.” She turned away and strode up the hillside, stopping on the same knoll where Dain had stood on his pig just moments before.

 

“Let them advance, see how far they get,” Thranduil taunted from behind her.

 

“You think I give a dead dog for your threats, you pointy-eared princess?” Dain shouted back, not knowing that it would be Zahra who he would face first. “You hear that, lads? We’re on! Let’s give these bastards a good hammering!” He turned back around, and frowned when he saw Zahra standing alone in the no man’s land, facing him. “What do you think you’re doing, lass?”

 

“Standing between you and them,” she said, pointing behind her at the men and elves.

 

“Do you think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re a child?” Dain called.

 

“Some might,” she said. “You won’t. And, honestly, I’m getting sick and tired of being treated like one!”

 

Dain smirked. “Right then. Let’s get this done,” he said to one of his generals. “Send in the goats!” Lines of large mountain battle-goats filed through the ranks of dwarves, heading for the armies below.

 

Behind Zahra, Thranduil commanded his elves to prepare to fire. He spoke in Elvish, but she didn’t need to know the language or look around to know what was happening. The Force told her all.  
She closed her eyes. The rumble of hoof beats, the rattle of armor, the slap of wood to wood, it all drifted away. She breathed in. She breathed out. The Force was with her. She smiled. She could do this.

 

“Thranduil! This is madness! Let Zahra do this!” Gandalf shouted.

 

“What can she do?” Thranduil asked.

 

Zahra opened her eyes. “This,” she murmured. She lifted her hands, one in front, and one behind. She reached out with the Force. With a twitch of her hands everything came undone. The arrows were jerked from the bows behind her. The battle goats stumbled to a halt, rearing as she felt through their minds, calming them with the Force as the Force had calmed her, their riders falling backwards in a rattle of iron and steel.

 

Taking advantage of the situation, Dain shouted in Dwarvish and from behind the frontlines giant, spinning arrows were launched. With one sweep of her hand as if she were batting away a gnat, Zahra slapped them away. They crashed into the mountainside, splintering into hundreds of pieces.

 

Silence reigned for a moment. Zahra straightened, dropping her arms and scanned the field around her. The goats stood still, awaiting her orders. Their riders pulled on the reins, climbing back up and tried to get them to move, yet they didn’t. Dain was gaping in open-mouthed shock. Turning her head, she looked at her allies below. Thranduil’s face was warring between outrage at being thwarted and disbelief at what she’d done. Gandalf was nonplussed. Bard was shocked. Bilbo was grinning from ear to ear. She met the Hobbit’s eyes and winked.

 

Facing Dain once more, she said, “This world is primitive beyond belief.” She raised her voice so it would carry to all those listening as she started up the hillside. She passed between the battle-goats and, with a nudge into their minds with the Force, they parted for her. A dwarf raised his knife to strike her, but she lifted a hand and lazily sent the knife shooting away. “You think you could build anything— _anything_ —that could match the power of the Force? That could match me?” She shook her head. “Don’t delude yourself, Lord Dain. There is nothing on this planet, no power in this world that can match the power of the Force.”

 

Dain shot more spinning arrows. These, too, she sent careening into the mountainside, shattering them on impact. “No one has to die,” she said. “Not you, not them, not me. The only ones who have to die are the orcs.” She turned to face south, her eyes alighting on the hills that stood close to Dale. “And they’re here.”

 

A rumbling filled the hills, and everyone turned to it. It was louder and deeper than the sound the dwarves had made as they came over the hilltop, reverberating through the ground. Suddenly, the hillside burst outward, and giant worms broke free, twisting their huge bodies, their flower-petal jaws gaping wide, eschewing the earth they’d eaten to form their passage. They retreated and legions of orcs spilled out of the newly formed tunnels. Ignoring the ensuing chaos behind her as the dwarves turned heel and began to form up, ready to face the orcs, she walked forward again, this time towards the new threat. She heard, distantly, shouting. Gandalf was either trying to get her to come back, or get Thranduil to fight the orcs. Maybe both. She paid them no heed.

 

The orcs formed ranks and began to move towards her.

 

She pulled her lightsaber from her belt, and breathed, pausing a moment. She scanned the new army, ready to do what she must.

 

“Zahra, come back!” Bilbo’s voice rang out clearly behind her.

 

She turned; saw the dwarven army crouched, spears out, shields in front. The elves were moving up behind them. She spotted Dain at the head of his army. Thranduil and Bard were watching her. Gandalf was gesturing to her, urging her back. And Bilbo…. Bilbo stood beside the wizard, his small sword out and ready, the blade glowing a fierce, bright blue. His gaze was entreating, pleading with her to come back. Her green eyes flitted over them all… and she smiled. She shook her head, and, with a snap-hiss and resonant hum, she ignited her lightsaber. She faced forward again. The orcs were almost upon her. With one final tug on the Force, she released her hold on the minds of the battle-goats, and surged forward.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra leads the charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for today and for a while. I'll try to post next weekend, but no promises. 
> 
> I added an Archive Warning for Graphic Depictions of Violence, so if you don't like battle sequences, I'm sorry.

She broke upon them like water on rock. Her blade was a blur, slashing and stabbing and taking out as many orcs as she could reach. Using the Force, she pushed some back, pulled some close and took their heads with one swipe. And she danced. Her face a calm mask, she danced with death as she dealt killing blow after killing blow. She spun, she leaped, she twirled. This new macabre dance was becoming an all too familiar one for her, she thought at some point.

 

Then, when she was becoming overwhelmed, she paused. As blade after blade began to move toward her, she folded down, and filled herself with the Force, her feet lifting from the earth. The air around her grew charged and a bubble of Force energy surrounded her. The orcs around her began to lift and spiral around her in a loop. With one mighty push, she spread her arms and legs wide and dozens of orcs shot away from her in all directions as the Force bubble expanded like the blast of a bomb. She stood there breathing deeply for a moment. She’d just used the Force Maelstrom attack, something she’d only ever done once before. _Master Danai would be proud…._

 

But she didn’t have time for sentiment or sadness. She attacked again, fending off orc after orc after orc. At some point unknown to her the dwarves and elves had joined in. They fought side by side, their earlier conflict, for the moment, forgotten. All gave her a wide berth. Only the orcs dared to come toward her, and they paid the price for their daring with their lives.

 

A horn echoed among the hills and she turned to the west to an outpost on a hill. Ravenhill. At its height stood…. “Azog,” she growled.

 

She ran her lightsaber through an orc in front of her and his body was split in two across the middle, both halves falling in opposite directions. A large swell of darkness hit her and she looked around and saw tall beasts pushing through the crowd. They looked a bit like the trolls they’d encountered early on their journey, but meaner. And their darkness was foul-er, though it was nothing like the orcs. Or indeed like Smaug. She jumped up and raced forward, stepping from head to head, not caring if they were orc, dwarf or elf. When she was six yards away, she leaped again landing on one of the war beast’s back and slammed her lightsaber down through its skull. It fell instantly and she leaped backwards, flying through the air. She took off another beast’s head and landed between two orcs. She cut off their legs, stood, and took their heads, all in one smooth motion.

 

Elvish arrows rained down, taking out orc and beast, sparing dwarf, elf and Zahra. Dwarven iron chariots, pulled by battle-goats, raced through the melee, their spiked wheels undercutting orc legs left and right. More enemies fell, but even more came spilling from the tunnels in the hillsides. Another horn blared and a beast, wielding a giant club ran across the field towards one of the iron chariots. It would destroy it. Force-running to intercept the beast, she cut off its arms when it raised them to club the chariot’s rider. Another came from the other side and she leaped over the chariot and took the creature’s head.

 

“Thank you, lass!” the dwarf driving it called out.

 

“You’re welcome!” she shouted back and they went their separate ways.

 

But more of the chariots were being destroyed. She couldn’t get everywhere in time, so she put away her lightsaber and lifted her hands. She yanked the beasts towards her and then pulled her lightsaber again. As the beasts sailed past her, she took head after head after head. The decapitated bodies hit the ground and skidded forward on momentum, knocking over orcs and a few dwarves. The elves, nimble as ever, jumped out of the way.

 

At the sound of another horn, she turned again and saw the reserves of the orc army heading off in the direction of Dale and looked back at Bard. She raised a hand to catch his attention. “Go to Dale!” she shouted. “It’s going to be attacked!”

 

  
If he heard her or not, she didn’t know, but he must’ve seen the army for himself for he charged back to the decrepit city, his townspeople right behind him. She turned in time to duck a swing from an orc sword. She pushed her lightsaber into the orc’s belly and then jerked upward, slicing its torso, neck and head in half. Then she spun away again, fighting back to back with an elf. She sensed Gandalf and Bilbo heading to Dale. Thranduil she could see fighting the orcs from the back of his giant deer (or elk, or whatever) his sword twisting in nearly impossible ways, yet not unlike a Jedi. Not unlike her.

 

The minutes dragged by, each filled with a little more blood spilled, a little more groans of pain, a little more cries of the dying. Each minute lasted an eternity, each eternity flowing into the next with no end in sight. More than once, Zahra glanced to the Mountain. She could feel the Company still inside. She knew that they would want to come out and fight as well, but she also knew Thorin wouldn’t let them. She knew he would make them stand down and stay inside the safety of their walls. But it was pointless. There were so many orcs, and she knew another army was on its way (she could sense it approaching), that sooner rather than later, the allied armies would be overrun and then, so would the Lonely Mountain. Thorin needed to come out of his hole. He needed to stand with his kin—with _her_ —and fight. It wasn’t just about keeping his treasure hoard safe. Now, it was about keeping the whole of Middle-earth from the clutches of evil.

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle continues and inside the Mountain, Thorin falls... and rises again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! YAY! But, I'm still busy and I don't think I'll post another today (still in heavy edits) and I'm so busy with things. I hope you guys enjoy this! Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks, and feel free to comment! :)
> 
> Also, this is a long chapter (sort of), sorry. ;)

It happened even sooner than she’d thought. The orcs were overrunning the city. More and more filed through it and she felt each death ripple through her like a blow. Her Jedi senses were blown wide, feeling for her allies, her heart wrenching with each that fell. She knew when Thranduil’s mount was slain. She knew when Dain’s battle-pig died. She knew, even, when every orc, troll, or beast stopped being and simply became a husk. She could not dwell on it, the lights being blown out, the shadows fading into more shadows. If she stopped and thought about it, she would become undone, unraveling like a spool of yarn washing down a mountain spring. Death was nothing to praise, nothing to celebrate. Death was part of the Force, yes, but a part to grieve about. But she would grieve later, much later… if she survived this onslaught.

 

Things were not looking good.

 

“Where’s Thorin?” she heard Dain shout at one point. “We need him! Where is he?”

 

 _Good question_ , she thought, and looked northward to the Mountain once more.

 

*

 

Thorin sat on the King’s throne, his glower deeper than ever before. Above his head was the space where the Arkenstone would sit. Should sit, if he still had it. Footsteps sounded across the high bridge and he looked up. Dwalin approached him, a look of worry plain on his face. Worry, rage and fear.

 

“Since when,” the bald dwarf began, “do we forsake our own people?” He stomped up the steps and paused before his king. “Thorin, they are dying out there.” Thorin turned his head away, his thoughts drifting with it.

 

He looked back at Dwalin. “There are halls beneath halls within this Mountain,” he whispered hoarsely. “Places we can fortify, shore up, make safe. Yes,” –he stood--. “Yes, that is it.” He looked at Dwalin, then away again. “We must move the gold further underground, to safety.” He started off but Dwalin’s voice halted him.

 

“Did you not hear me? Dain is surrounded.” Thorin looked back as his cousin continued, “They’re being slaughtered, Thorin.”

 

“Many die in war,” Thorin replied after a moment. “Life is cheap. But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost.” Dwalin stared at him in distress, sadness filling his eyes. “It is worth all the blood we can spend.”

 

Dwalin scoffed quietly. “You sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon your head and yet you are lesser now than you have ever been,” Dwalin said.

 

“Do not speak to me as if I were some lowly Dwarf Lord,” Thorin said, moving away, his voice breaking with unshed tears. “As if I were still… Thorin…Oakenshield.” His voice broke completely as tears trailed down his cheeks. He drew his sword and swung it wildly, missing Dwalin by a wide mark. “I am your king!”

 

“You were always my king,” Dwalin said. “You used to know that once. You cannot see what you have become.” His voice was filled with the sorrow of a man who had watched the one before him grow up from a babe in arms to a strong warrior and now, finally, to a mad king. This was not his Thorin, the one he’d followed through rain and wind and dragon-fire. His Thorin was gone. Would he ever return?

 

“Go,” Thorin said. “Get out. Before I kill you.”

 

Dwalin swayed in shock. Tears brimmed from his eyes and flowed downward, unselfish tears that spoke of a now broken heart. Quite unlike the ones Thorin had shed mere moments ago. Without another word, he turned and left. Thorin was alone once more.

 

*

 

In the Hall of Kings, Thorin walked over the newly golden floor. He remembered Smaug erupting from it. He remembered fighting the dragon with the Company and Bilbo and Zahra. He remembered the journey. He remembered his father and grandfather. He remembered Smaug’s attack upon the mountain one-hundred-and-fifty years ago when he was a young dwarf. He remembered watching Thror count his gold over and over and over, fingering the jewels and stroking the Arkenstone. He remembered… everything.

 

Voices echoed in his mind. The voices of those he had called friend and kin, as well as his own. They flitted through his mind, overlapping each other, as he turned in a circle unceasing.

 

_You sit here with a crown upon your head. You are lesser now than you have ever been._

_But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost._

_A sickness lies upon that treasure._

_The blind ambition of a Mountain King!_

_Am I not the King?_

 

_This gold… is ours. And ours alone. I will not part with a single coin._

_He could not see beyond his own desire!_

_As if I were some lowly Dwarf Lord._

_…Thorin… Oakenshield._

 

_A sickness which drove your grandfather mad._

_This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!_

_I am not my grandfather. I am not my grandfather._

_You are the heir to the Throne of Durin._

_They are dying out there._

_Take back Erebor._

_Dain is surrounded._

_Dying…._

 

_…is surrounded._

_Dying._

_Take back your homeland._

_You are changed, Thorin._

_I am not my grandfather._

_And you are an old man driven mad by greed! I trusted you, Thorin, I believed in you!_

_Is this treasure truly worth more than your honor?_

_You are not your grandfather, Thorin!_

_I am not my grandfather._

 

Just as that final thought drifted through his mind he heard a rumble. He looked down at the golden floor. He could swear he saw the shadow of a giant serpent below his feet. It slithered across the floor, hissing and snarling. He had to get away from this remnant of Smaug!

 

_This treasure will be your death!_

He was trapped. The ground was sinking in beneath him; he was going to be swallowed whole! He yelled in terror and sank to his knees. He had to escape! He tried.

 

But no. He was on his knees. The ground was solid below.

 

_You are not your grandfather, Thorin!_

He took off his crown and tossed it away, the metal clinking on the golden floor.

 

He was free.

 

*

 

“Fall back! Fall back to the Mountain! Fall back!” Dain’s shouted order reached Zahra and she turned. He beckoned to her and she raced to his side. Together they hurried back to Erebor. She looked up at the Mountain and hoped the Company would come soon. Their forces were divided and falling fast. Even if the Company only numbered thirteen, the fresh warriors would still help.

 

She stumbled. Dain grabbed her arm, hauled her up and they kept going.

 

*

 

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was restless. They stood, they paced, they prayed to Durin. But no matter what they did, they could still hear the sounds of the battle outside. Watching Zahra lead the attack, first against Dain, and then against the orcs, had been hard to do. They hadn’t even felt betrayed when she taunted Dain and destroyed his spinning arrows with a flick of her wrist. And when she’d raced towards the orcs and begun to fight them, they’d been proud. They couldn’t blame her for the things she’d said to Thorin. They couldn’t blame her for anything, not even when she’d declared herself their enemy. Thorin was not himself. He was changed, as Bilbo had said. No, what bothered them most at the moment was that their kin, their friends, were out there at that moment fighting and dying for them, while they stayed behind their walls and did nothing.

 

Kilí saw him first. He heard footsteps and looked up to see his uncle making his way towards them from the Hall of Kings, backed by a golden light. He got to his feet, not bothering to hide his anger. Thorin wasn’t wearing his crown or his cloak. He wore very little armor as well, and his sword was drawn. But Kilí was too worked up by anger and fear to pay this any heed.

 

“I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us!” he proclaimed, moving towards his uncle as Thorin continued forward. “It is not in my blood, Thorin.” They paused before each other. For the first time, Kilí noticed how clear his uncle’s vision was.

 

Thorin examined him and then put his hand on Kilí’s shoulder. “No. It is not,” the king said. “We are sons of Durin. And Durin’s Folk do not flee from a fight.”

 

Tears bubbled in Kilí’s eyes as he realized his uncle was back. Thorin looked at him with love, put his hand to the back of Kilí’s head and touched their foreheads together. Yes, he was back.

 

Thorin strode past Kilí and faced the rest of the Company. “I have no right,” he began, “to ask this of any of you. But will you follow me one last time?”

 

The Company immediately raised their weapons and stood. The meaning was plain. They would follow him anywhere.

 

*

 

They were screwed. They were so screwed. Zahra heaved a heavy sigh, slowing her breathing to renew herself. The Force was with her. But would it be enough against an army this vast and this vicious? She wasn’t used to fighting prolonged battles on the ground. She wasn’t really used to fighting battles, period. She was used to brief skirmishes that lasted minutes not hours as this had so far. Brief and to the point, over quickly. This… how did these people handle this?

 

More orcs had come from the tunnels, tramping over the dead and throwing themselves at the remaining dwarves and elves and Zahra. There were two lines of defense. And Zahra stood at the rear, at Dain’s request. Should the first line break, she would be an asset at the Mountain’s feet, fending off the enemy with her particular skills. A horn echoed through the din and the enemy advanced.

 

Then, she heard another horn, deeper than the first. That was no orc horn. She turned just as the wall the Company had erected was destroyed by a giant golden bell that rang loudly burst through it, rocks and stone flying outwards, making a bridge where the river cut across in front of the Mountain. And from the dust shapes emerged, running, pell-mell right for them.

 

She grinned. She’d know those silhouettes anywhere.

 

“Thorin,” she whispered.

 

Dain’s army parted to let Thorin and the Company through.

 

“To the king!” Dain yelled and he began to follow after his cousin. Zahra took up beside Kilí and when he looked up at her she nodded, a small smile on her face. Kilí, with watery red eyes, smiled back briefly before they both faced forward again. “To the king!”

 

Thorin shouted in Dwarvish and they broke upon the enemy with new vigor.

 

Time stretched on. Zahra fought beside Filí, Kilí and Thorin. It felt good to fight with them again, she thought.

 

A bellow reached her ears and she turned. She saw before her a war beast, who had had his feet and hands replaced by large spiked balls, an orc sitting on a chair on its shoulders, directing it with chains attached to the creature’s eyes. “Oh, you poor creature,” she breathed, pity assailing her. She leaped up to its head, killed the orc and, pausing a split-second to feel sorrow for the war beast’s miserable life and fate, she rammed her lightsaber directly into his head. A quick death was better than a prolonged life of agony. She jumped off before he fell, landing next to Filí and lopping off an orc’s head before it could stab the golden-haired prince in the back.

 

“Thanks!” Filí gasped.

 

“You’re welcome!” she replied and spun away, slicing her lightsaber through more orcs.

 

As time and the battle continued, she was separated from the royals. She found herself surrounded and performed another Force Maelstrom attack, but afterwards she found herself on her knees, panting. She was close to the end. She’d used so much of her energy, so much of the Force that she was getting to the point of complete exhaustion. She whistled out a breath. “I need to meditate more,” she murmured.

 

From a distance, she saw Thorin and Dain embrace and smiled. If all this meant getting Thorin to smile again, then she figured it was worth it. Then, to her surprise, she saw the king jump onto the back of a battle-goat. Dain spoke to him again and, a moment later, Balin, Dwalin, and the princes rode up on one of Dain’s iron chariots. They took off and she looked where they were heading. Ravenhill. Azog. She narrowed her eyes. If that was where Thorin was heading, then so would she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin in the Hall of Kings scene was difficult to write. I hope I did it justice.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zahra and the dwarves reach Ravenhill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support and the kudos! Feel free to comment!

She was some distance away, but Zahra didn’t care. She got to her feet and Force-ran after the chariot. She leaped onto the back next to Balin, startling them all.

 

“It’s only me!” she shouted, deflecting their blades with the Force. “Chill out!”

 

“You cannot come with us, lass!” Dwalin shouted to her.

 

“Yes, I can, and I am!” she replied. “Don’t look at me like that!” she added when they all shot her glowers. “I’m going!”

 

It was settled, and, even though they grumbled as they fought off orcs that tried to stop them, they didn’t say anything more about it. They barreled through a line of orcs, Thorin leading the way. Zahra took a breath and leaped up and over, landing in a crouch on the back of one of the goats. Planting her feet, she stood, riding the goat like she’d seen Gungans ride waves on Naboo, though she doubted it was ever this bumpy. She cut left and right, taking out orcs when they got too close. She pushed them back with the Force, but not too many. She was running nearly on empty now, her engines in low drive.

 

When Balin, laughing merrily, brought the chariot over a raised rock, she leaped off and ran alongside it. The spikes jutting out from the wheels sliced off the heads of several trolls. The sight of the thick black blood spurting up made her grimace. “Yes!” Dwalin shouted.

 

“Eyes front, lads!” Balin shouted. His brother and the princes looked around. Zahra looked up. A giant troll, much bigger than any they’d seen so far, with huge blades in place of his hands, walked over a rise. Before the dwarves could do anything, she raced for it, leaping up and taking its head. She landed in a crouch and pulled a bacta pill from her belt. She only had a few left. She swallowed it in one go and soon felt renewed strength course through her.

 

She looked up and saw more orcs coming for them. She ran beside the chariot and looked around for Thorin. He was far ahead. Balin suddenly jerked the reins of the goats to avoid a surge of orcs and the goats and chariot went over a hill and slid along the frozen river. Zahra looked over the edge, watched them slide back and forth as the goats continued on. She raced along the hilltop, keeping even with them.

 

“Run on ahead, Zahra!” Dwalin shouted. “We’ll catch up, lass!”

 

“Got it!” she said. And she hurried after Thorin.

 

*

 

She reached Ravenhill before the dwarves; even on foot she was still faster, when she used the Force. She stood there, scanning ahead, searching for orcs. None were visible, but she could sense them. The darkness reached out to her, clawing at her heart. She pushed against it, but the effort left her weakened. She plopped to the frozen ground and closed her eyes, measuring her breathing. A foreboding crept into her mind and she could see, just there, on the edge of her mind’s eye… something… something horrible. But… what?

 

So focused was she on the vision that tantalized her mind, hanging just out of reach, she didn’t notice the enemies approaching from behind her, not until she heard the sound of heavy steps racing over the icy rocks. She turned. Orcs! She ignited her lightsaber and took them on. As she was fighting, Thorin appeared, jumping off his battle-goat and stabbing an approaching orc in the chest. They paused briefly to look at each other, but then Zahra’s attention was dragged away by another orc. Filí, Kilí and Dwalin showed up soon after Thorin and, once the orcs were dead, they faced Ravenhill together.

 

“Where is he?” Kilí asked. “It looks empty. I think Azog has fled.”

 

“No, he’s still there,” Zahra said.

 

“How do you know?” Filí asked.

 

“I can sense him. And his orcs,” she replied. She stretched out with the Force. “Oh, no,” she murmured.

 

“What is it, lass?” Dwalin asked her.

 

“More orcs. Coming from the north. Lots of them.” She looked around at the four dwarves. “You stay here; take care of the army that’s coming. I’ll get Azog and his minions.”

 

She started to move off, but Thorin grabbed her hand. “Wait,” he said.

 

“Don’t try and stop me, Thorin,” she said without looking around.

 

“I won’t,” he said. “I-I just. About what I said—.”

 

She turned then and looked him in the eye. “We can talk about it later,” she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head and slipped her hand from his, putting it on his shoulder. “Later, Thorin.”

 

He looked at her for a long moment, his blue eyes intense… and then nodded. “Very, well,” he said. Nodding to Ravenhill, he added, “Go.”

 

With a final nod to the others, she leapt off the ledge they were on, and pelted across the frozen waterfall.

 

Cloaking herself with the Force, she turned off her lightsaber, and creeped up into the watch tower. She used the Force to guide her, stepping carefully. As she passed one room, she heard the rattle of metal and the voices of orcs. She peeked around a corner and saw a group of about a dozen standing there, awaiting orders. Where was Azog?

 

She pulled back again, took a deep breath and whirled around the corner. They saw her and, before they could raise the alarm, she jerked them up with the Force and sliced through them with her lightsaber. Well, that was a few taken out. She left the room and continued up. Azog was here, somewhere. She could sense him.

 

The higher she climbed the more orcs she encountered. She killed them, but it wasn’t easy and she grew more winded with each blow she struck. Several times a blade would make it past her guard when her attention slipped and cuts sprang up on her arms, sides, and legs. None were deep, being more of an irritant than a hindrance, but the fact that she was acquiring wounds at all left a tremor of fear in her heart. She really needed to rest and meditate, but in the heat of battle, her options were limited. All she could do was hold the Force close to her and pray it was enough.

 

At the top of the watch tower, finally, she found Azog. He wasn’t alone. A dozen more orcs were with him. When she appeared, they turned on her, but Azog raised a hand to stop them.

 

He growled at her in his own tongue and she smirked. “Remember me?” she asked.

 

He smiled, showing a grotesque smile of yellow, pointed teeth, then gestured to his orcs to attack.

 

It was over before it had even begun. Zahra stood, surrounded by the dead and looked up. Azog was gone. She narrowed her eyes. The coward. He’d taken the opportunity to escape. She hurried to the wooden stand outside the watchtower and looked out. Across the way, she saw the dwarves and Bilbo. Bilbo? When had he gotten there? She hadn’t felt his arrival. Suddenly, she was grabbed from the side.

 

Someone shouted. She looked up. Azog. “Coward!” she spat at him. He merely grinned.

 

“Zahra!” she heard Thorin shout.

 

Azog shook her, hard, and her lightsaber fell from her hand. Azog’s hand was wrapped around her throat, squeezing. Zahra gasped, her vision darkening as she struggled to breathe. He was going to kill her. She had to get away. She met his pale gaze and her lips twisted into a snarl that quickly faded as his grip tightened. She clawed at his hand and arm, as he lifted the other, the wicked knife it bore pointing towards her chest. In a panic, Zahra brought her feet up, placed them against Azog’s chest and pushed. He released her as he fell back, hitting the side of the watchtower and she tumbled backwards into thin air.

 

Down she fell.

 

She twisted and landed in a hard roll on an outcropping of rock. Pain shot up her leg, but she ignored it. She sat up and then immediately lay back down on the cold stone as her vision swam. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in and out slowly and waiting for the dizziness to pass.

 

Sitting up at last, she held out her hand and her lightsaber flew into it, igniting at once. She looked up. Azog was gone.

 

She stood and took a step, only to hiss in pain and coughed. Her ankle had hit wrong and was now a little twisted. She didn’t think it was broken, but she’d have to be careful. Limping, she moved across the rock and down to the ice below. “Thorin!” she shouted, her throat so sore her voice came out as a hoarse croak, jumping up onto the ledge beside him. She stumbled on her bad ankle and he caught her.

 

“It was a trap!” he exclaimed.

 

“Yeah, thanks, I know that now! I mean, I kind of figured it anyway,” she said. She grasped her ankle, crouching.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked. He reached out and lightly brushed her throat, his gaze darkening when she sucked in a breath and flinched.

 

“It’s fine. I just twisted my ankle,” she replied, pulling back. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“There’s another army coming!” Bilbo said

 

“Yes, from the north. I sensed it. They’ll be here soon.” She looked around and finally noticed dead goblins scattered around them. “You guys have been busy,” she noted, sitting again to take weight off her ankle.

 

“They didn’t stand a chance!” Kilí boasted in an attempt at levity that didn’t quite match the situation. His eyes were much dimmer than his tone.

 

“Where’s Azog?” Thorin asked, scanning Ravenhill across from them.

 

“Don’t know. When I escaped him, he must’ve disappeared.” Zahra stood, putting experimental weight on her ankle. The bacta pill was still working, it seemed; her ankle only ached a little now and her throat felt better, but her voice was still hoarse. “But that can only mean bad things. Thorin, be careful. He means to kill you.”

 

“I mean to kill him,” Thorin replied, glancing down at her ankle, his expression fierce. “Perhaps you should stay here with Bilbo.”

 

“Thorin—,” she began.

 

“No,” he said. “Stay here.” He nodded to the other dwarves and they disappeared.

 

With a heavy sigh, Zahra sank back to the frozen earth and focused on her breathing and using the Force to soothe her aching body.

 

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked. He began to pace.

 

“I will be,” she replied.

 

He nodded and after that, they remained silent.

 

But they weren’t alone for long. Zahra stood, then ducked as giant winged creatures shot overhead. A large orc jumped over the rise behind them, and more followed. She lifted her lightsaber and Bilbo pulled his sword and the battle was on once more. Was there no end?

 

Dwalin appeared behind them and they fought side by side. After several long minutes, she felt the curdling of anger in her belly. She had had enough. She put her lightsaber on her belt and lifted her hands. The orcs finally stopped. She curled her fingers and they began to choke. When she’d choked the life from them, only then did she release them. They collapsed.

 

She lowered her hands and stared at them, the shock of her actions sinking in. What had she just done? So caught up in the moment, she had given in to her anger and used the dark side of the Force! How could she? Gandalf had been wrong; she _had_ been affected by the mountain! Her hands began to tremble and she put them to her face. She could still sense the pull of the dark side. With great difficulty, she pushed it away, buried it deep inside her. She was a Jedi, not a Sith. Not a Sith! She couldn’t be….

 

“That’s all of them, lass,” Dwalin said. She looked up. Dwalin and Bilbo were watching her with worry plain on their faces.

 

She steeled herself and nodded. “Let’s find the others,” she said. Heedless of her ankle, she turned and made her way back to Ravenhill. She had to get away. She had to get far away from what she’d done. She didn’t want to think about it. Not yet. If she had given in to the dark side this once, what was to say she wouldn’t do it again?


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle ends and Thorin and Zahra have a conversaton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you for your continued support. It means so much to me that people are reading my words and enjoying this story.

The first dwarf she saw was Kilí. He and the she-elf Tauriel (where had she come from? Zahra was certainly off her game if she hadn’t noticed elves in the vicinity of Ravenhill.) were battling the orc from the river, Bolg. And they were losing. Leaping high, she pushed him off the top of the rocks to the waterfall below with a surge of the Force. Whether he lived or died was not her problem. 

 

“Are you okay?” she asked Kilí and Tauriel. They nodded and then embraced each other, staring soulfully into one another’s eyes. “Um. Okay. I’ll, er, leave you to it then.” Feeling awkward, she left them. 

 

She had to find Thorin. 

 

She followed the sounds of blades striking and came across Filí fighting a small group of orcs and quickly joined in. She sliced through them with ease. When they were all dead, she turned to Filí. He was panting, his braided mustachios swinging as he looked around. “Thank you, Zahra,” he said. He stepped close and embraced her. She returned the hug for a moment, and sighed. 

 

“I’m so tired, Filí,” she whispered. She closed her eyes briefly, giving in to the warmth of his touch for just a moment.

 

He stepped back and looked up. “It’ll be over soon, Zahra,” he said. 

 

She nodded and stepped away. She gestured behind her. “Kilí and Tauriel are back that way. I think your brother might be in love with her.”

 

He nodded with a sigh and gave a chuckle. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

 

“I’m going to search for Thorin,” she said. 

 

“I’m sorry for how he treated you and Bilbo,” Filí said, his gaze earnest and sincere. 

 

“Thank you, Filí, but I need to hear him say it for it to mean anything,” she replied. 

 

He nodded again and watched her run off before starting back the way she’d come. 

 

When Zahra finally found Thorin, he was standing on the frozen waterfall and, across from him, was Azog. She got the impression they’d already done some fighting, for both were breathing hard. 

 

It took every ounce of restraint in her not to leap at the pale orc and kill him herself. But this was Thorin’s fight. And it was a long time in coming. (Not to mention, she was exhausted.) So she perched on a ledge and watched.  
A horn sounded in the distance and she looked north. Here came the other army. She gritted her teeth and turned away, looking down on Thorin and Azog. Thorin walked forward, lifting his sword. To her astonishment, Zahra realized it was the sword he’d discovered from the troll cave. How had he gotten it? Then she knew. If Tauriel was here, then so was Legolas. She looked around but couldn’t see the Elven prince anywhere. 

 

Azog roared and started moving towards Thorin. He was carrying a chain in his only hand, from which dragged a large block of stone. He swung it around and Thorin dodged. The stone hit the ice and cracked it. Moving behind the orc, Thorin took a swipe at him with his sword and metal clanged on metal. Azog was wearing armor. 

 

With each swing of the stone the ice splintered more and more. Azog stood at the middle and Thorin outside it. So when the ice finally broke and Azog began to tip backward, Zahra grinned. Thorin had done this on purpose. An eagle’s call echoed above and she looked up. The eagles had come again, heading for the new army. Radagast and Beorn rode on two of the eagles. As they circled above the army, Beorn jumped off, transforming into his bear form and landing with a snarl, swiping at the orcs around him. 

 

Turning back, she saw Thorin pick up the stone and heave it at Azog who caught it instinctively. Then he dropped backwards and the ice covered him. 

 

Zahra was smiling broadly as she stood again, ready to hurry down and grab Thorin in a hug. The poor dwarf looked as exhausted as she felt. He knelt and picked up his dropped sword… then something caught his eye. She sensed it. Azog wasn’t dead. Panic flaring in her chest she raced down, slipping and sliding on the icy rock in her need to get to Thorin. His yell of pain hit her like a punch to the gut and she skidded onto the ice.

 

Azog had stabbed the dwarf king in his foot up from under the ice and then the orc burst upward, water and ice spraying everywhere. Thorin fell onto his back and Azog hovered over him. His long knife came down and Thorin raised his sword just in time to stave it off... but just barely. Azog pushed down, Thorin pushed up, but Azog had the upper hand, his body weight adding to the pressure he exerted on his knife. The tip of Azog’s blade pierced through Thorin’s tunic and undershirts and into his chest. 

 

Rage flared in Zahra’s heart. She ignited her lightsaber and leaped for them, sailing through the air over the ice and landing beside them. She took Azog’s arm in one swipe. She moved around him, put her lightsaber to his throat and forced him to his knees. She had to take a beat to steady herself, her anger simmering deep in her belly. She looked down at Thorin.

 

“Kill him, Thorin,” she said. 

 

Thorin, wincing in pain and heaving in a breath, stood with his Elven sword clutched in his hand. He looked Azog in the eye, all his hate for the pale orc blazing in his blue eyes, and then ran him through, straight in the heart. Zahra released the orc. Now, he was held up only by Thorin’s sword. Azog gurgled and black blood dripped down his chin as he looked up at Thorin. The king pulled his sword out. Azog fell sideways. He was dead. 

 

Zahra and Thorin stood there, panting. And then Thorin collapsed, clutching his chest. Zahra hurried over, dropping her lightsaber. She grabbed him and held him to her, lowering his head to her legs. 

 

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s over. You did it. He’s dead.”

 

“Zahra,” he said, looking up at her. She saw a thousand emotions in his eyes, but pain eclipsed them all.

 

“It’s okay, Thorin,” she repeated, smoothing back his hair. It was drenched in sweat and blood. “You’ll be okay.” She pulled back his tunic and shirt to take a look at the wound on his chest, using the Force to feel inside. “It’s not that deep,” she murmured. She reached into her belt and pulled out a bacta pill. “Here. Take this. It’ll help.”

 

“What is it?” he asked. “Elvish medicine?” He grunted in pain, his face screwing up, but he didn’t stop her when she brought the pill to his mouth.

 

“No, silly,” she said, slipping it between his lips. “It’s Jedi medicine. Just swallow it whole. Don’t chew.”

 

He did as she said with a heavy grimace. Once done, he leaned his head back onto her legs and looked at her. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. 

 

“It’s alright,” she assured him. 

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head against her knees. “It’s not. I should not have said what I did. All this time, I’ve treated you terribly. I saw your pain and did nothing to stay it.”

 

“Thorin,” she said, stroking his face. “I forgive you.”

 

“How can you?” He sounded genuinely perplexed.

 

She shrugged. “Words spoken in anger, in the heat of the moment, they are meant to wound, to hurt. That does not mean that we actually feel that way. I know you didn’t mean what you said. And I forgive you.”

 

He gazed up at her with his blue eyes wide. “All the same,” he said, “I am sorry.”

 

She nodded. “I know.” On impulse, she bent her head and kissed his cheek. Pulling back, she stroked where she’d kissed him. “I know.”

 

“All that you did today, and every day before,” Thorin said, his voice thick with emotion, tears shimmering in his eyes, “I could not have been prouder of you had you really been my daughter.”

 

Zahra sucked in a breath. She stared at him and smiled, a tear sliding down her cheek, landing on his chin and disappearing into his hair. “Thank you, Thorin,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

 

She wrapped her arms around him as he drifted into sleep and waited for the others to arrive.

 

*

 

Bilbo found them first. Then Dwalin, Filí and Kilí. Tauriel was with the young princes but no one commented on it. The rest of the Company arrived soon after, Gandalf bringing up the rear. 

 

Bilbo stared in silence at Zahra and Thorin. Thorin was unconscious or asleep, it was hard to be certain, his head resting on Zahra’s knees. Her arms were tight around the king’s shoulders, and she looked up when they approached. 

 

“He’s alive, but wounded,” she said. Dwalin, Nori, Gloin and Filí raced over, hefting the king up between the four of them. Zahra got to her feet and Dori hurried to her side, letting her lean on him as she limped after the others. 

 

Bilbo watched as the Company, plus Tauriel, carried the king and ushered Zahra down the hillside, heading for Erebor. He paused and looked up at Gandalf. “It’s over,” he said. The second orc army had been taken out by their friends they’d met along the way: Beorn, Radagast, and the eagles. Azog was defeated as well. Bilbo stared at the pale orc’s body. He couldn’t really describe all the feelings inside him, yet he knew he was relieved.

 

“Yes, it is over,” Gandalf said, patting the Hobbit on his shoulder. “Come, Bilbo Baggins. We must see to the care of our injured friends.”

 

Bilbo nodded, sniffed and followed the wizard away from Ravenhill.

 

To the west, the sun peaked out from behind the bank of dark clouds, flooding the valley at the foot of the mountain with light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had me really concerned. I'm not sure if it's enough, or if it's just right. It's the end of the battle and the rest of the story from here on out is completely new. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lowbacca and the droids arrive at Erebor and Zahra has a series of conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I know it's been over two weeks. I'm sorry. But I've been so busy and this story has kind of taken a back seat to a lot of things. But here's a new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it. And it's kind of long.

Zahra sat in her room in Erebor and contemplated the comlink in her hand. Lowbacca had just contacted her. The hyper-drive of the Millennium Falcon was fixed as were the rest of the engines. She, and several elves and dwarves, had spent the previous day pulling Smaug’s body from the lake. Really, it had been mostly her doing, using the Force to lift the dragon’s giant head from the depths of the lake. She probably could have lifted his whole body, but she was still drained from the battle. Smaug’s head was all she could manage. They’d taken some of his scales and they were even now piled up in a corner of her room. And this meant that Lowbacca could fly the Falcon to Erebor and they could fix the ship and go home.

 

She’d told him to come and they were on their way. Something flared in her chest and she grinned. She couldn’t wait to see her friends again. It felt like ages, but it was really only about three months. _Three months_ , she thought. It felt like an age.

 

Two weeks had passed since the Battle of the Five Armies, as people were calling it. Thorin was laid up in bed, refusing to have anyone treat him but Oin or Gandalf. She’d shaken her head at his stubbornness but was really just relieved he was alive. That they _all_ were. Somehow the Company had made it out of the battle with only minor wounds and bruises. Oin had treated her cuts with a salve and wrapped them with bandages that he changed twice a day, and only yesterday had he taken them off for good. There weren’t even scars left. Her ankle Gandalf had mended in a trice with a word of warning not to “leap about the place” anymore. She’d followed his direction for about a day before she leaped onto a stone bridge to avoid Thranduil. Even though he’d sided with the dwarves and Lakemen in the battle, she still didn’t really like him. However, she’d urged Thorin to give the elf his jewels, but Thorin only grumbled and looked the other way. She had a feeling if Thranduil was to get them back, it would be up to her.

 

Standing from her bed, Zahra pulled on her belt and robe and left the room. She had gotten quite used to Erebor’s twisting passages and high bridges but still managed to get lost every now and then. But the path from her room to the front door of Erebor was easy to remember. She’d walked it every day for a week waiting for some sign of Lowbacca and the droids.

 

She sat outside on a stone and watched the sky. It was cloudless and a deep azure, the sun shining off to the east. She breathed in the late morning air and smiled up at the sky. She felt better today than she had in weeks. She’d caught up on sleep, and every meal was hearty. She’d even gained a few pounds, returning meat to her too-thin frame.

 

The hum of engines, a welcome sound after so long, hit her ears from the west, dragging her from her thoughts. She turned her head and saw the Falcon crest over the mountains in the distance. She could hear murmurs around her and looked about. The Company, minus Thorin, had exited the Mountain. Gandalf was with them and Bilbo, Bard and his children, Thranduil, Tauriel and Legolas, who was due to leave in a couple weeks. He’d mentioned something about a man called Strider that he needed to find.

 

Zahra looked back up and watched as Lowbacca landed the ship and the ramp went down. She stood, waiting, her heart pounding with anticipation, energy zinging through her. She bounced on the balls of her feet.

 

When she saw Lowie’s hairy feet start to descend, she couldn’t contain herself anymore. She raced forward, launching into his arms as soon as he was on the ground. He let out a happy bellow and swung her around. She was laughing. She was crying. She was so happy, she thought she would burst.

 

When he set her back down, she grinned up at him through her tears. “I missed you, my friend,” she said.

 

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, in his native speech. She laughed and hugged him, the top of her head barely meeting the center of his chest. Behind him, Threepio and Artoo touched the ground and she went to them, hugging them both too.

 

“Oh! It’s so good to see you three!” she said, standing back again, to survey them. “Any problems?”

 

“None, whatsoever, Mistress Zahra,” Threepio replied.

 

“I’m not your mistress,” she said automatically, still grinning. “And I’m glad you’re all safe.”

 

Lowie replied in his usual gruff growling way, “We’re glad you’re safe, as well!” He looked around and saw the group clustered around the Mountain’s entrance staring at them. He growled low. “What do they want?”

 

“Just curious, Lowie. Don’t get excited,” she soothed him. “Come on. I’ll introduce you and then you can get the dragon scales if you want. We can start mending the Falcon tonight!” She pulled him by the paw over to the others. “Some of you know him, some of you don’t, but anyway, this is Lowbacca. He’s also a Jedi and my friend.”

 

“Greetings again, Lowbacca,” Gandalf said with a bow. “I hope that you are well.”

 

The Wookiee roared in reply. “He said he’s fine,” Zahra translated.

 

“You can understand him?” Thranduil asked.

 

“I can,” she replied.

 

He looked impressed and also wary of the Wookiee, who towered over all of them.

 

Zahra introduced the others to Lowie and Bard’s children especially looked awed. “When you said you weren’t from around here, you weren’t kidding!” Bain exclaimed, while Tilda walked forward, mouth gaping wide, and was pulled back by her father.

 

“No, I wasn’t,” Zahra said. To Bard, she added, “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt any of you. He’s a fierce enemy when provoked, but he’s sweeter than Felucian honey most of the time.”

 

Everyone blinked at her. “Er, never mind,” she said. She looked up at Lowie. “Shall we get the dragon scales, now?”

 

“Hold on, lass,” Balin said. “Thorin will want to meet Lowbacca again, and he’ll probably want to introduce him to Dain.” The Lord of the Iron Hills was sticking around until Thorin was back on his feet. Who knew when that would be?

 

“Oh, you’re probably right. Lowie?” she asked the Wookiee, looking up at him. He nodded. “Okay, Balin. Lead on.”

 

Thorin did not look the least bit happy to see Lowbacca again and from the way the Wookiee crossed his arms and commenced to growling low in his throat, he wasn’t happy either. They stared at each other for a long minute as Zahra introduced Dain to Lowie.

 

“I guess the others weren’t pulling my leg then,” the red-haired dwarf said. He looked between Thorin and Lowbacca. “It’s nice to meet you, Lowbacca.”

 

Lowie raised his voice and growled back.

 

“He says, thanks, it’s nice to meet you too,” Zahra said. Dain’s thick red eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth, perhaps to ask if she could really understand the Wookiee, but was interrupted before he could.

 

“Can I speak with Zahra alone?” Thorin said suddenly.

 

There was a great deal of shuffling feet and Lowie looked to her. She nodded and he left with the others. “We’ll get you those dragon scales, Lowbacca,” she heard Kilí say. “Just go back out to the ship; we’ll bring them out to you.”

 

As the sounds of the others’ voices and footsteps faded away, she turned slowly to Thorin. He’d uncrossed his arms. His torso was still wrapped in bandages and he was leaning back against the small hill of pillows behind him. She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, her back to him, facing the wall.

 

Neither spoke for several long minutes.

 

Finally, “I know what you’re feeling, Thorin. I can feel it,” she said. She felt him flinch and looked back over her shoulder at him. He was watching her, his eyes guarded. “We all knew it would end like this. This was the whole reason I came on this quest with you.” She shifted around, pulling one leg up so she could face him, hooking her other knee in front of her ankle. She reached out and took one of his rough hands into hers. “I helped you take back your home. I helped you keep it. Now, it’s time for me to leave. This doesn’t mean we won’t miss each other, because we will. We will hold each other in our hearts even if we can no longer see one another, or speak to one another.” She smiled sadly at him. “It will all be okay.”

 

He squeezed her hand. “I know that you are right,” he said heavily, “but I cannot bear the thought of parting from you now.”

 

She smiled a little more. “It’ll take a few days,” she said. “We have a little time left, Thorin.”

 

He nodded, but still his expression was heavy.

 

Zahra leaned forward and kissed his cheek and sat back again. “You better not get too used to that,” she said. “When I’m gone, the kisses will be too.”

 

He smiled and squeezed her hand again.

 

A long moment passed and then he said, “I have something for you.”

 

“For me?” she repeated watching as he reached with his free hand to the bedside table. He slid open the drawer and reached in.

 

“Here,” he said and she lifted her hands to cup them as he placed a silver chain into them. Hanging from its end was a single tear-shaped emerald. It was cut beautifully and it seemed to shimmer like stardust at its heart.

 

Zahra gasped at its beauty and ran her thumb over it. Then she smiled. “It’s an emerald,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at Thorin. He shifted and darted his eyes around the room.

 

“…Yes,” he said.

 

“Like my eyes that are as green as emeralds,” she continued, then bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

 

Thorin shifted again, uncomfortable with the whole situation. “I was trying to be subtle,” he said.

 

“Thorin,” she said, laughing, “you’re about as subtle as a mountain, which is to say, not very.”

 

He looked at her and then began to laugh as well. They continued like this until he winced and touched his chest.

 

“Okay, let’s stop, or you’ll hurt yourself even more,” Zahra said. She scooted closer to him and reached for his hand with one of hers. The other lifted the chain and dropped it over her head, scooping her hair away. The emerald hung down to the middle of her chest.

 

“I’m fine,” he groused, but there was no bite in his tone. He looked at the emerald then up into her face. “I wanted to give you something to remember us by.”

 

She smiled at him and patted his hand. “Oh, Thorin,” she said. “How could I ever forget you?”

 

*

 

Bilbo paced outside Thorin’s room. Lowbacca was here. The ship was here. The dragon scales were being carried out to it and soon it would be able to fly again. Which meant Zahra would leave. He sighed heavily.

 

The door to Thorin’s room opened and the Hobbit looked up. Zahra stepped out and shut the door quietly behind her. She looked at Bilbo. He smiled at her and she returned it. She motioned with her head and held out her hand. He took it and they walked out together to the ship. As they walked, he noticed something glinting off her chest, but he didn’t ask what it was. He already knew. Thorin had wanted to give her something and, after much debate with himself, had decided on an emerald. Bilbo thought it was perfect.

 

Outside, Lowbacca was examining the scales and the small blue and white droid (Artoo, had Zahra called him?) was looking them over. A small hatch on his side opened and a long thin white arm slid out. He ran it over the scales, eliciting a series of whistles and beeps. The golden man, Threepio, translated for him.

 

“He says that these scales should work just fine for the ship’s underbelly, at least for a short time. Once we reach our galaxy again, we’ll have to find a more permanent replacement,” Threepio said to Zahra.

 

She nodded. Bilbo, Gandalf, Bard and his children, Thranduil and his son, Tauriel and the Company, plus Dain, all watched Zahra as she took command. She’d always been confident, but now, this was a new kind of confidence. She wasn’t just in command: she was a leader, a true leader. “That’s fine, Threepio,” she said. “I expected as much, anyway. Lowbacca, let’s see how malleable they are, though I doubt it’ll be much. After that, do what you can to fit them to the ship. I’ll help, of course, and you too Artoo.” The small droid whistled a confirmation. “Threepio, I’d like you to get back onboard and keep an eye on that wormhole. If it disappears again, we’re sunk. At least until it appears again.” She looked at her companions. “I want this to go as smoothly as possible. We have a lot of work to do gang! Let’s get to it!”

 

Lowbacca roared and picked up a scale and carried it on board. Threepio went with him, and Artoo glided under the ship to examine the damage there. Alone with the others again, Zahra looked around at them. “We’re going to be very busy now,” she said. “And I’m sure this’ll be very boring to watch, so you can go about your business, if you want.” She released Bilbo’s hand and went into the ship.

 

“Is it just me,” Ori said after a moment, “or did she look as if she was going to cry?”

 

Dori wrapped his arm around his youngest brother. “No, she was. I saw it too.”

 

Bilbo frowned, then hurried up after her. He didn’t bother to gape at the ship’s insides. He was too focused on finding Zahra. He eventually did find her, standing at a checkered table, hands on its top, head bowed between her shoulders.

 

“Zahra,” he said.

 

She straightened. He heard a small sniff and then she looked over at him, smiling. “Hey, Bilbo,” she greeted him. “Look, Lowie and I are about to get really busy, you might want to go do something else.”

 

He walked over to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

 

She looked at him. “Nothing.”

 

He frowned up at her. “It’s not ‘nothing’, Zahra. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

She sighed. “It’s a lot of things.” She sat on one of the smooth seats around the table. She motioned for him to sit too, and he took the seat across from her. “It’s things you wouldn’t understand.”

 

He looked her in the eye. “Try me,” he said.

 

She wiped at her eyes. “Remember at Ravenhill? When those orcs attacked? What I did?”

 

“You stopped them,” Bilbo said.

 

She shook her head. “I choked them to death. I killed them.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo replied. “You killed others, a lot of them.”

 

“It’s not that I killed them,” she said, frowning slightly. “It’s how I did it. Jedi… Jedi don’t kill like that. That was the dark side of the Force. I did something only a Sith would do.”

 

Bilbo didn’t understand. “What’s a Sith?”

 

“They are the antithesis to all that Jedi are. If we are a calm stream flowing down a mountain, they are a wild fire raging out of control, destroying all in its path. What I did, choking those orcs with the Force, a Sith would do that, not a Jedi. Do you understand now?”

 

Bilbo frowned. “I’m not sure I do,” he said. “But I’m sorry if doing that upset you.”

 

She looked at him and smiled. There was a look in her eyes that gripped Bilbo’s heart and squeezed it painfully. “No, Bilbo, you don’t really understand. But thank you, anyway.”

 

Not knowing what else to say or do to make her feel better, he stood to leave, but stopped when she called after him.

 

“Bilbo,” she said, and he turned. The look on her face froze him in place. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time now, but, what did you find in the Goblin Tunnels?”

 

He swallowed as the rhythm of his heart increased. What had he found? Only the most precious of items. But he couldn’t tell her that. What if she took it from him? It was his, all his… his precious.

 

“Only a ring,” he said, then quickly added, “I lost it.” It was a lie of course. The ring suddenly felt very heavy in his waistcoat pocket.

 

Zahra looked at him for a long silent moment. He couldn’t tell if she believed him or not. He cast about for another excuse, something, anything, to convince her, but then she said, “I see. Well that’s too bad.” She smiled. “I’ll see you later.”

 

Relief washed over him and he smiled tremulously at her, nodded, and left. He could feel her eyes on him the whole way out, burning into his back, even when he passed beyond her sight.

 

*

 

Outside again, Bilbo walked towards the others, his brow furrowed in thought. “Well, what happened? What did she say?” Gandalf asked as they all crowded around the Hobbit.

 

Bilbo explained as best he could (leaving out any mention of the ring), but none of them looked as if they really understood what Zahra had meant any more than Bilbo had. Except Gandalf. The wizard straightened and gazed at the ship for a long moment then strode past them all and disappeared inside.

 

“Well, we should leave this to Gandalf,” Balin announced. “We all have work to be getting on with. Filí, you’re our interim king until Thorin is better, so come along, lad.” Filí didn’t look at all thrilled by this but he went with the elder dwarf all the same. Thranduil, Legolas, Bard and Dain reentered Erebor, the rest of the Company trailing behind. Kilí and Tauriel, along with Bard’s children, took off on a stroll. Only Bilbo remained outside the flying ship, awaiting Gandalf’s return.

 

*

 

“My dear Zahra,” Gandalf said, startling Zahra. She looked around from the toolbox she’d been rifling through. “Whatever is the matter?”

 

She looked up at him, confused, and then realized that Bilbo must have spoken to the gray-haired wizard. She sighed and stood, twirling a hydro-spanner in her hand. “Gandalf,” she began with a heavy sigh. “What do you think?”

 

“I think you are troubled greatly,” he replied, leaning heavily on his staff. “Talk to me. I don’t pretend that I will fully understand all that you say, but I can listen and offer advice.”

 

She smiled briefly and then began to levitate the hydro-spanner in midair in front of her. “It…,” she began, then sighed. “You know about the darkness, right?” She looked at him keenly. He nodded. “Imagine that a hundred, a thousand fold. Can you?”

 

Gandalf frowned. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes I can.”

 

She nodded. “That… that is the dark side of the Force. “ Gandalf breathed in sharply. His eyes widened. “Yeah,” she said, seeing his reaction. “Yeah.”

 

She tossed the hydro-spanner back into the toolbox and sat on the floor, crossing her legs in front of her. “At Ravenhill, I did something no Jedi is supposed to do, not unless they have special training. I used the dark side. I could feel it and it… felt… good.” She closed her eyes. To Gandalf it would appear as if she was ashamed. And she was, but also, she was remembering the power that had coursed through her in that moment, so brief, so ephemeral it seemed now like a dream. She opened her eyes again. “The dark side is seductive. It is power incarnate. It is dangerous. I haven’t felt the pull to it since that day, but I don’t doubt that it will come again. And that… Gandalf, that frightens me. You were wrong, you see; I was affected by the Mountain’s darkness.”

 

He crouched before her, his bushy brow furrowed heavily. “Can you not fight it? If you know what it feels like, and know that it is wrong, can you not fight against it?”

 

She smiled wryly. “I could, and I will, but it’s not that easy. The dark side is a tricky thing. It can creep up and take hold of you before you know it. And once it takes hold, there is almost no going back. Only one man was ever able to turn back from the dark side… and doing so cost him his life.”

 

Gandalf watched her closely. “I wish I could tell you not to fear, but I can see it would do little good. Perhaps, Lowbacca…?”

 

“No!” she said quickly. She folded her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please, don’t tell him, Gandalf. He has so much to worry about already, I can’t let him worry about this too.”

 

Gandalf frowned. After a moment, he said, “Very well. I shall not tell him.”

 

Zahra sat back, relief filling her.

 

“I sense there is more troubling you than this incident,” Gandalf said after a long moment of studying her.

 

She looked up quickly and laughed lightly. “There’s no fooling you, eh, Gandalf?”

 

He smiled. “No, there isn’t. Tell me.”

 

She chewed on her lip, running her fingers over her Padawan braid. “I hate to leave,” she admitted after several long moments of silence. “I need to, I want to, but….”

 

“It will be difficult. You’ve done something you didn’t want to do, and nor did you expect it to happen: you’ve grown to love all of us,” Gandalf said quietly, gently, without judgment.

 

Zahra bit her lip, hard, and looked away, rifling through the toolbox again. “Yes,” she whispered. A lone tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but the traitorous drop of water had been seen and given her away.

 

“There is no crime in loving,” Gandalf said kindly.

 

She wiped at her eyes, both of them, hoping to stay the flow of tears that threatened to fall.

 

Useless.

 

“My dear, Zahra,” Gandalf said, settling into a more comfortable position, leaning against the wall opposite hers. “We all face these trials, you know. The thought of leaving is ever present in our lives for they can be cut short quite easily.”

 

“I’m not dying, Gandalf!” she exclaimed, widening her eyes at him. “I’m leaving. And it’s not for a short little jaunt across Middle-earth! I’m leaving this planet! This galaxy! We will never see one another again!”

 

Gandalf smiled kindly at her, his eyes brimming with tears as well. “Is the principal not the same? Dying is a form of leaving. And, yes, you are not dying, but you are leaving. And, as you said, we will likely never see one another again.” He shrugged. “It is a kind of death, is it not? A death to our friendship.”

 

She gaped at him. “No…. No, it isn’t!” she protested heatedly.

 

“Then, explain it to me,” Gandalf said mildly. He pulled out his pipe, stuffed it with tobacco, lit it with a flick of his wrist and began to puff away. “Go ahead.”

 

“Because I love all of you!” she exclaimed. “I will always remember this world and everyone and everything in it. Physically I will leave, but my memories, my feelings will keep us together. Our friendship will continue as long as we remember one another!”

 

Gandalf smiled, pride filling his eyes, the tears retreating. “There you have it,” he said, pointing at her with his pipe. “There you have it.”

 

Zahra was breathing heavily, overcome with emotion and stared at him. Her own words sank in slowly and she gasped. She began to laugh. And then she began to cry, hands over her face, until her tears faded. She and Gandalf sat there together for quite a while in silence, letting the hope of memories fill them with peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when I'll post another chapter, but I'll be aiming for next week at the earliest!


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More talking....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little over a month since I last posted a chapter, but here I am again! Sorry it's been so long, but anyway, on to the new chapter!
> 
> (Thanks for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! It makes me happy to have people enjoying this!)

It had been Gandalf’s idea. Bilbo wasn’t sure how good of an idea it was, but he didn’t argue against it. Gandalf wanted to throw a farewell party for Zahra and her friends. He’d sent out invitations, via ravens, though there were only two (invitations, not ravens). Everyone else, the wizard said, was already there.

 

Zahra had taken to working and sleeping in the ship. Bilbo barely saw her, except at mealtimes, where she would laugh and joke with everyone, but Bilbo could see the shadows under her eyes, the worry creasing her brow, the sadness that never quite left her eyes. He wasn’t the only one to see it, he knew. More than once he caught a member of the Company, or one of their new Elven friends, or Gandalf, even Bard, casting her concerned looks. Bilbo knew what they were all thinking, at least what the Company, Gandalf and Bilbo himself were thinking: Zahra had given up sleep again. Bilbo thought she’d overcome her sleepless nights, but perhaps the stress of her impending departure was keeping her up at night. That was the only conclusion Bilbo could draw.

 

One night, about two weeks after Lowbacca had brought the ship to Erebor, Zahra was sitting between Filí and Kilí at dinner. She’d been laughing good-naturedly at one of Kilí’s jokes, when she suddenly fell asleep, her head slumping forward. It would have fallen into her bowl of stew, if Filí hadn’t caught it in time.

 

“Take her to a bed, Filí,” Thorin said, sounding weary. “Let her sleep. Her friends can get on without her for one night.” His nephew nodded, picked her up and disappeared with her from the dining room.

 

Everyone sat in silence until Filí returned and Gandalf stood, drawing everyone’s eyes to him, and announced, “The party is progressing wonderfully. Our guests should be here by tomorrow, and then we can say a proper farewell to our new friends.” He paused a moment looking sorrowful. “I’ve spoken to Lowbacca, and he told me the ship should be ready to go in two days time.”

 

“Two days?” Bofur exclaimed, looking aghast at everyone. “Well, we’re cutting it a bit close, aren’t we?”

 

“Indeed,” Balin agreed. “Bombur, how are things going in the kitchens?”

 

“We’ve enough to feed everyone and then some,” the rotund dwarf replied.

 

“Aye, we’ll have enough for ten parties!” Kilí said.

 

“We’re not having ten parties,” Thorin said. Kilí’s smile faded and he looked embarrassed. “Gandalf, how do we even know Zahra will like this?”

 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Nori asked, pulling out his pipe to smoke.

 

“She just doesn’t seem the type to appreciate a surprise party,” Thorin said.

 

“And you know what she likes and doesn’t like, don’t you, King Under the Mountain?” Thranduil said, smirking.

 

Thorin glared at the elf. “I know enough,” he replied evenly. Thranduil lifted a thin dark eyebrow and said nothing.

 

“Well, I still think we should do this,” Gandalf said. He hesitated a moment, and then added, “Look, she’s been very down these past few weeks. She hates the idea of leaving all of us.”

 

“Well if she hates it, she can stay!” Tilda exclaimed excitedly. She clapped her hands together and bounced in her seat next to Bard. “She still hasn’t told me a story!”

 

“Hush, Tilda,” Bard said, laying a hand on his youngest child’s shoulder, though he looked amused. “We can’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to.”

 

Tilda pouted.

 

“And she doesn’t want to,” Gandalf said gently, looking around at everyone. “Zahra has kept a great many things from us. There is a reason she was where she was when that wormhole pulled her ship through. She has a quest of her own and she must see it through to the very end. We cannot deprive her of that right.”

 

Everyone sat there and contemplated the wizard’s words. “You’re right, Gandalf,” Thorin said after a moment. “She must leave. And if she must, then we will see her off.”

 

Gandalf dipped his head to him and it was decided.

 

*

 

Zahra woke and for a moment, did not know where she was. A quick scan and she realized she was in her old room in Erebor. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. She was exhausted. The past two weeks had been long. She’d helped Lowbacca and Artoo put the dragon scales on the ship’s hull and now they were doing final checks. There had been a problem with the aft shields, but Artoo had managed to reroute power from low priority systems. The patch would hold, at least until they could find a port in their galaxy to fix it properly. She heaved a sigh. The Millennium Falcon sometimes seemed like more trouble than it was worth, but she knew Han loved it. She did too, really, even with all its flaws.

 

She stood, slipped on her robe and headed out. She would help Lowie and Artoo with final checks and then… well, she didn’t quite know what she’d do then.

 

Zahra walked through the city of Erebor, looking around and drinking in the sights. She would miss this place. She would miss this world. She would miss her new friends. Well, they were more than that now, weren’t they?

 

One of Dain’s dwarves passed her and bowed his head. She returned the bow and they continued on their separate ways. She walked through the city, across bridges and through tunneled halls, until she came across Dain and Thranduil. They were sequestered in a sitting room, standing by a table upon which sat a small chest engraved with silver. She paused and stood in the shadows watching.

 

“Thorin bid me give these to you,” Dain said. He lifted the small chest and raised the lid. Inside, white gems shone brightly.

 

She heard Thranduil, whose back was to her, suck in a breath. He reached out a hand and brushed his long fingers across the necklace of silver and white that sat atop the gems. “This is no trick?” he asked, and Zahra was surprised to hear his voice shaking.

 

“No, ‘tis not,” Dain said. He shut the chest and handed it to Thranduil who took it gently and cradled it to his chest as if it were a baby. Dain bowed, received one in return, and left the Elven King.

 

He spotted Zahra and paused beside her. He looked over his shoulder at Thranduil whose head was bent over the chest.

 

Dain said nothing. He merely looked at Zahra and patted her lightly on the shoulder. She smiled at him and watched him leave.

 

So, Thorin had given them back to Thranduil after all. The White Gems of Lasgalen. But the dwarf king was too prideful still to hand them over himself. Instead of anger, she felt amused. She shook her head and stepped into the room.

 

“Thranduil,” she said in a hushed voice.

 

He turned quickly, and she was shocked to see his eyes were rimmed in red and the tracks of tears traced his high, sculpted cheeks.

 

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

 

He looked away and set the chest on the small table. “You did intrude,” he said, “but that does not follow that your presence is… unwanted.” He flipped open the lid again. “Have you seen them?”

 

She came forward, coming to a halt beside him and looked at the gems he had long coveted.

 

“They’re beautiful,” she said, and they were. They glowed with an inner light that should have been impossible, and yet she saw it with her own eyes. “They remind me of starlight.”

 

“Yes,” Thranduil said. He stroked the necklace again. “They do.”

 

Zahra bit her lip. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was looking at the gems with profound sadness that broke her heart. “I hear Legolas is leaving,” she said, deciding it was better to change the subject.

 

“He is. He does not wish to return home with me,” he said. The elf sighed and shut the lid again with a soft thunk. “I have failed him in many respects.”

 

“No,” she protested, facing him fully now. “Why do you think that?”

 

“Because it is the truth. When his mother died, I shut myself away from the world and also from my son,” Thranduil said. “I put my own fears, my own feelings above all others, even my son’s. I was not a father to him. I was merely his king.”

 

“Thranduil,” Zahra said, and couldn’t help it when her left hand came up and rested on his right forearm. “I’m sure you had your reasons. They don’t necessarily justify or excuse your actions, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong either. Love is a great and terrible thing. And you loved your wife very much. To lose her, well, I suppose it must have been like losing a part of yourself.”

 

“Have you ever loved someone like that?” Thranduil asked, looking at her curiously.

 

She looked away, her cheeks flushing. “I… I don’t know. Love? The romantic kind? I don’t think so.” She gave a soft laugh. “But there is someone I _like_ … back home.”

 

Thranduil let out a breath and patted the hand that rested on his arm. “Perhaps one day you will understand,” he said. “You will see him again, and, I have no doubt, you will come to know what it is to love someone.”

 

She looked up at him. “You sound like Lady Galadriel,” she said.

 

He shrugged. “All elves have some level of prescience,” he said. “Some of us more than others.” He lifted the chest again and Zahra’s hand slid from his arm. Turning to look down at her, Thranduil’s lips twitched in a barely there smile. “Thank you, Zahra Rivers, for your words. They have comforted me more than I can say.” He started to leave.

 

“Thranduil,” Zahra called after him. He paused and looked back. “It’s not too late to forge a better relationship with Legolas. He is your son and he loves you and you love him. Fathers and their children should not let loss of another come between them. It should bind them closer.”

 

Thranduil stared. “Thank you, Zahra. And, if I may say, you might take your own advice someday,” he said. With another small, gentle smile, he left.

 

Zahra was left to feel as if she’d put her foot someplace it didn’t belong. She wrapped her arms around herself. Why was this Mountain always so cold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to leave Zahra and Thranduil on a sour note, so I hope their conversation helps to mend fences a little between them. I think they've reached a new understanding. What do ya'll think?


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party here in Erebor~! (If you know that reference, let me know!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the end! One more chapter and then this story will be over!

Zahra exited the Mountain, her mind reeling from her conversation with Thranduil. Had she really confessed to liking someone? Well, it was the truth, but why had she told him that? Shaking her head, and putting it from her thoughts, Zahra went to join her friends at the Falcon and they got to work. 

 

As the day dragged on, they encountered no problems… until well into the afternoon when Artoo reported a variance in the aft shielding power cup-links. They were in the middle of reconfiguring them when a throat cleared behind them. Zahra jumped, the handheld computer she was holding tumbling to the floor. She picked it up and checked to see that it was still working (it was) before turning to face the new arrival. 

 

“Balin!” she exclaimed. He’d surprised her; she’d been too focused on her work to notice his approach. Lowie didn’t look surprised, though, so at least one of them was paying attention. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Hm? Oh, I was just coming to see how you were all coming along,” he said, looking around. He nodded, as if he knew what they were doing, and then continued. “And I was going to ask Lowbacca and Threepio and Artoo to come back with me.”

 

“What for?” she asked, confused. 

 

“Oh, uh, I just wanted to show them something,” he said vaguely. 

 

“I’ll go with him,” Lowie said. 

 

“Huh?” Zahra looked at him, perplexed. “Okay. I’ll finish up here and see you later.” 

 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help, Mistress Zahra?” Threepio asked. 

 

“I may not be mechanically inclined, but even I can reconfigure power cup-links, Threepio,” she said. “And I’m not your Mistress.”

 

“So they’ll be joining me?” Balin asked. 

 

Lowie nodded his great head. 

 

“Excellent!” Balin said, beaming. “Dinner is at its normal time, Zahra. See you then!”

 

“Bye,” Zahra said, feeling a little dazed as the four of them left. She watched them go, an inkling of awareness settling on her mind and smiled slightly. After a moment, she shrugged, shook her head, and got back to work. 

 

By the time she was finished, it was time for supper, so she cleaned up in the ship’s restroom and went off to get something to eat. As she left the ship, she wondered, idly, what her friends were planning.

 

*

 

Entering the dining room for supper that evening, Zahra wasn’t the least bit surprised to find it dark. She paused. She reached out with the Force, and suppressed a laugh. Her inkling from earlier had proven accurate. She pulled her lightsaber free. “You know,” she said letting it ignite, the glow of the blade illuminating the group of men, elves and dwarves, plus two wizards, two droids, a skin-changer and a Wookiee, “it’s really not a smart idea to try to surprise a Jedi.” She lifted an eyebrow around at them.

 

There were sighs and moans and a few chuckles. There was a flurry of motion and Zahra deactivated and put away her lightsaber as lanterns and candles were lit all around her. Gloin made a fire in the giant fireplace along one wall. 

 

“We just wanted to have a party to say good-bye proper,” Tilda said, pouting. 

 

“Properly,” Zahra corrected the little girl with a smile. “And thank you. All of you. That means… well, it means everything.”

 

Tilda beamed and hurried forward to throw her arms around Zahra’s waist. 

 

“Greetings, Zahra Rivers.”

 

Zahra looked around sharply and groaned. “Oh, no, not you again,” she said, but there was no bite to her words. Indeed, she smiled.

 

Lady Galadriel, looking somewhat wane and tired, smiled at her. Her guards, Haldir and his two brothers, Orophin and Rúmil, stood behind her, along with a handsome, golden-haired elf lord. “My husband, Lord Celeborn,” the lady introduced. 

 

Zahra detached herself from Tilda and bowed. “Pleasure,” she said. To the lady she said, “You don’t look so good. Please, sit down.” She ushered the she-elf to a cushioned chair. 

 

“Thank you, Zahra Rivers,” Lady Galadriel said as she sat, a look of relief crossing her face for an instant before vanishing. 

 

“You’re welcome,” she answered automatically, worried. 

 

“My wife and grandsons have told me much of you,” Lord Celeborn said. He stood beside his wife, one hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him slightly.

 

Zahra looked around and finally noticed Elrohir, Elladan and their father, Lord Elrond, along with a she-elf with dark hair and pale eyes, standing off to the side. “Have they?” she asked with a smirk. “All good things, I hope.”

 

“Of course,” Lord Celeborn replied, smiling. 

 

She greeted Lord Elrond and his sons. She really was glad to see them again. Lord Elrond introduced the she-elf who turned out to be his daughter, Arwen. Apparently, she’d been on Lothlorién visiting her grandfather when the Company had been in Rivendell. They started talking but were soon interrupted by a loud voice calling out. 

 

“Zahra!” Thorin called. 

 

She looked over. 

 

“Come here!” he ordered. 

 

Zahra huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Can’t you see I’m busy, Thorin? Rude much?”

 

He scowled. 

 

“Go, my child,” Lady Galadriel said, looking amused. 

 

“Are you sure?” Zahra asked. Behind her, she could feel Thorin’s glare boring into her skull. “I can stay if you want.”

 

The she-elf smiled. “You are kind, but, yes, I am sure. Go on.”

 

Zahra nodded and hurried off, sitting down beside Thorin. “What?”

 

“Nothing. I just didn’t want you to keep talking to elves all night,” he grumbled. 

 

She stared at him a moment, then threw back her head and burst out laughing. She drew attention from others, but didn’t care. For several long minutes she laughed, long and hard, before her laughter died enough for her to look Thorin in the eye. “You are so petty, sometimes,” she said, but she was still laughing a little, smiling broadly at the dwarf.

 

He scowled. “I am not,” he said. 

 

“You are too!” she said and patted his head, making him scowl further. “But it’s nice. Thank you.”

 

Thorin mumbled something under his breath, his cheeks turning pink but she could see his lips curving into a small smile.

 

“I’ll miss you, you know,” she whispered. He looked at her. 

 

“I know,” he said just as quietly. 

 

They smiled at one another, and the party went on. 

 

The dinner was lavish and Zahra ate heartily, conversing with everyone, even Thranduil. Her conversation with him that morning had shifted something in their relationship. The antagonism was still there, but lessened, more teasing than adversarial. 

 

As the night wore on and conversation began to ease, Tilda finally got her wish. 

 

She bounded up in front of Zahra where she was sitting with Lowbacca, Bilbo, and the droids. Hands on her hips, the girl said, “You promised me a story, remember?”

 

Zahra bit back a smile. “I did, didn’t I? But I don’t think everyone else wants to hear one. They can be rather dull, you know.”

 

Tilda gasped and whirled about, facing the room. “You want to hear her story, right?”

 

There were nods and noises of agreement and someone even called out drunkenly, “Here, here!” (It sounded like Bofur.)

 

Tilda turned back around, smiling triumphantly. “They want to hear it, so go on!” She plopped down at Zahra’s feet and waited. 

 

Zahra really did smile then. “Well, if I everyone wants to hear it, then I don’t see how I have much choice.” She leaned back in her chair, balancing it on its back legs, and thought. “What kind of story should I tell?”

 

The idea came to her almost at once. She smiled a slow smile, full of longing, sadness, nostalgia and hope. Settling her chair back down, she stood and walked around the room. Tilda got to her feet and hurried after her, sitting on the floor again when Zahra came to a stop. 

 

“This story isn’t like other stories,” she began, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention. “Most stories are old and are believed to be legend or myth. Or they are young and can be remembered by the storyteller. This is neither of these. I wasn’t born at the time of these events, but they did happen. They are history. The history of the Jedi and of my galaxy.” She looked around. Everyone was staring at her raptly. Her lips twitched in an almost smile and then continued. “It begins, well, it begins as all good stories do: a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, there was a young man who dreamed of worlds far beyond his own. He longed for adventure, to do something with his life beyond being a farmer on a desert planet, culling the moisture from the air for water. He longed to be more than what he was.” She looked at Tilda. “He dreamed for it.” Tilda smiled. 

 

Raising her head again, Zahra went on. “And, as unlikely as it may seem, adventure found him, but in a way he never would have expected. His uncle bought two droids from Jawa traders. Now these droids,” she raised her hand and gestured to the only two in the room, “were designated C-3PO and R2-D2, and they had just begun an adventure of their own, and now Luke Skywalker, the farm boy, was caught up in it, even if he didn’t know it at first. He cleaned them up and took care of them, but he learned something very strange. Artoo was looking for someone. A Jedi Master by the name of Obi-wan Kenobi. Obi-wan had gone missing some years before and Artoo had been tasked with finding him and bringing him back to the Rebel base.

 

“Now, you must understand that in the whole of the galaxy, filled with hundreds of planets and billions of life forms, there was a war being fought. The evil Empire, which had been in power all of the boy’s life, was fighting against a Rebel faction who wanted to overthrow the Emperor and restore peace to the galaxy. Years before, Master Kenobi had fought in the Clone Wars, but that’s a tale for another time,” she said to Tilda, who looked ready to interrupt, “and he still had many allies in the Rebellion. And they needed him. So, the day after the droids were bought, Luke and Threepio went looking for Artoo, who had gone out in search of Obi-wan Kenobi the night before. Luke had thought that the Kenobi Artoo mentioned was in fact an old hermit called Ben Kenobi, but his uncle had already dismissed this idea. Well, when Luke and Threepio found Artoo, they were set upon by Tuskan Raiders. Luke was knocked unconscious, his land-speeder was being stripped, and surely he would have been killed if that old hermit hadn’t appeared. He imitated the call of a Krayt dragon, a large, fearsome beast which the Raiders feared. They ran away and the old hermit found the boy. Luke recognized him immediately. He explained that he’d gone after Artoo who was looking for Obi-wan Kenobi. The hermit paused at the name. He said he hadn’t heard that name in a very long time, and then confessed that he was, indeed, Obi-wan Kenobi, but he did not remember owning a droid. They went to Master Kenobi’s house and there Luke learned the truth: his father, Anakin Skywalker, had been a Jedi and fought alongside Obi-wan in the Clone Wars over twenty years before. Luke asked how his father had died and learned that a young Jedi named Darth Vader turned to the dark side of the Force, and betrayed and murdered Anakin. Darth Vader was notorious. He was not only a powerful Sith Lord, but he was also the Emperor’s right hand man and enforcer." 

 

“Obi-wan found the message that Artoo had been sent with and he and Luke watched as the image of a beautiful young woman, who we will come to know as Princess Leia Organa, beseeched Obi-wan for help. Obi-wan asked Luke to go with him to the planet Alderran but Luke refused.” She paused in her story and looked around. 

 

“Don’t stop! Keep going!” Bofur urged. 

 

With a smile, she did. She told them everything she’d been told, mixing the firsthand accounts of Master Skywalker, Captain Solo and Master Organa-Solo with those of Threepio and Artoo and Lando Calrissian, to tell the story of the return of the Jedi. 

 

Everyone listened, not daring to interrupt. The story took most of the night. By its end, everyone was either cheering, or crying, and Zahra’s voice was hoarse from overuse. 

 

“That was the bestest story ever!” Tilda exclaimed. 

 

“The best story ever,” Zahra corrected her, retaking her seat next to Lowbacca. “And, it was pretty good.”

 

Tilda laughed. 

 

“It was, indeed, a very excellent story,” Gandalf said. He blew a smoke ring and thought. “But all good stories deserve embellishment.” He turned a keen eye on the Jedi. “How much of that was indeed true?”

 

She smiled. “I told you the truth,” she said. “At least, as it was told to me. Yes, it may have been embellished. In fact, knowing General Calrissian and Captain Solo as I do, I would almost safely say that their tales were embellished. But if you want accuracy, ask Threepio and Artoo. They witnessed almost everything. Except for Luke’s fight with Darth Vader on the second Death Star during the Battle of Endor. That, Master Skywalker told me himself.”

 

“It’s amazing!” Tilda exclaimed. “All that happened to real people on other worlds!”

 

Zahra nodded, still smiling. “It did,” she said. “Over forty years ago. Smaug, I believe, had already taken up residence here, though.”

 

“Yes, he had,” Gandalf said. 

 

“Do you really have to leave?” Tilda asked suddenly. She came before Zahra and placed her hands on Zahra’s knee. “There’s so much you could tell us about where you come from! And you’re really nice! I’d like it if you stayed.” Her blue eyes were so wide, Zahra almost wanted to give in and say she would stay. But then she thought about all that she would miss at home. All the people, all the places. And she knew in that moment that there was never any doubt what path she would choose.

 

Putting her hands on Tilda’s shoulders and addressing the room though she didn’t look away from the child, she said, “Yes, I must leave. All good things must come to an end, and my story here is done. I still have a quest of my own to complete. It’s time I got back to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even after all this time, the story portion of this chapter feels a bit convoluted. What do ya'll think?


	38. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things....

The sun was some hours from rising when Zahra crept from her room in Erebor. The final checks and repairs of the Falcon the previous day had gone well, and everything seemed ready for takeoff. The party the previous night had left a hollow feeling in Zahra’s heart, however. She was ready to go, but hated to leave. She’d only felt this way twice before in her life: when she left her brother on her home planet, and when she left the Jedi Temple to search for her Master. _You’d think I’d be used to it by now,_ she thought wryly as she slung her pack over her shoulders.

 

Taking a deep breath, she strolled along the high bridges and stone corridors of Erebor, pausing to gaze once more at the hall of gold. The sight was both beautiful and revolting as she remembered all that had happened within these halls. With one final glance, she turned and left it all behind.

 

The deep rumble of voices caught her attention as she moved along.

 

On a bridge that overlooked the dining room, she peeked over the edge. There was Thorin, Dain, and all the Company, sans Bilbo. Dain’s loud voice was indistinct to her, but the laughter of the others made her smile. Thorin still looked terrible, she thought, his bare chest still wrapped in bandages, but he’d been regaining his strength steadily. She watched them for several minutes until Thorin suddenly looked up. She pulled away from the edge at once and waited. Looking over several moments later, she sighed in relief to see that Thorin was speaking to Dain once more.

 

Turning away completely, Zahra continued through the heights of Erebor and out to the main hall. From here, she made for the exit. She stopped at the broken front gates of Erebor. She looked out at the desolation before her. She could see Lowbacca making a last minute check of the outside of the Millennium Falcon. The battle slain had been taken away weeks before, to be buried or burned, yet the ground was still marked by the battle that had been waged there. It was as if the winter air had frozen the ground, forcing those who walked across it to remember the dead.

 

Yes, it was almost time to go home. Home. What a wonderful word. She smiled and sighed, ready to go.

 

“Leaving without saying goodbye?”

 

Zahra’s smile grew as she turned to see Bilbo and Gandalf behind her. “I thought I would just slip away in the night,” she said.

 

“So suddenly?” Bilbo asked.

 

“I came so suddenly. Why not leave the same way?”

 

“Because, after all we’ve been through, all we’ve done together, we deserve a proper goodbye, Zahra. All of us,” Bilbo said, giving her a meaningful look.

 

“He’s right.” Zahra looked beyond him and saw Thorin and the Company standing there. Thorin was leaning heavily on his nephews’ arms. “You should say goodbye before you leave.”

 

“Indeed. To all of us.”

 

Zahra looked around again. Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn and her guards stood there. Beyond them, King Thranduil was coming up with Tauriel and Legolas. Horses raced up from Dale, Bard and his children and, Zahra blinked in surprise, Radagast and Beorn, Lord Elrond and his sons and daughter. It was the party night all over again, only minus the food and happy cheer. “Come to see me off?” she asked.

 

The horses pulled up and everyone began to dismount. “Indeed,” Galadriel said, calmly.

 

Zahra laughed. She looked around at all her friends. _Her friends._ Even Thranduil. “Well,” she said. “Goodbye. I wish I could say it was fun,”—laughter rippled through the crowd—“but it was eventful. And,” she looked Thorin in the eye, “I regret nothing. I helped you to reclaim your home, and now I must return to mine.” She paused a moment, then decided it didn’t matter now, so she finally confessed, “I’m looking for someone you see. My master, my teacher. She’s missing. Taken, I don’t know where. But I—we—are looking for her.” She gestured back towards the ship, where Lowbacca was standing placidly, waiting. “I don’t know when—or even if—I’ll ever find her. But I won’t stop trying.”

 

Gandalf smiled.

 

“I won’t forget any of this, or any of you. I may have just been a ship passing in the night, but we all are in some way. Just people who meet as strangers and part as friends. And that’s what we are… all of us. And as long as there is compassion and love among us we will always remember and have a home to go back to.”

 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Radagast exclaimed. She turned to him with a grin. She put a hand over her heart and bowed to him slightly.

 

“Thank you, Radagast,” she said.

 

“But you’ll never come back,” Tilda said looking sad.

 

Zahra looked at the child. “I don’t think so, no.”

 

“But we’ll still be friends?” she asked.

 

Zahra’s smile was so wide it felt as if it would split her face. “Always.”

 

Lowbacca’s roar rent the air and she turned. He waved to her.

 

“It’s time for me to go,” she said. Tilda began to cry. “I won't tell you not to cry; there's no shame in it and sometimes it can't be helped. But this is not goodbye forever. My heart tells me we will meet again. Even if not in this life.”

 

“Oh it will be in this life,” Galadriel said.

 

“And?” Zahra asked when the elf didn’t go on. Galadriel merely smiled. “Geez, could you be any more cryptic? Fine, whatever.” She looked at the Company. “So long,” she said, fighting the wave of thick emotion that threatened to overtake her.

 

“My dear, it has been a pleasure beyond words to know you. It amazes me that you’re only sixteen for all the wisdom you possess,” Gandalf said smiling.

 

“I’m seventeen now,” she said, suddenly remembering.

 

“What?” Kilí asked, grinning. “When was your birthday?”

 

“It was the day we came to the Mountain,” she said. “Durin’s Day.”

 

The dwarves all gasped and began to smile.

 

“I always knew there was something about you I liked!” Bofur exclaimed. They laughed.

 

Lord Elrond took a step forward. “I think I can speak for all of us,” he gestured to his fellow elves, “when I say that it has been an honor to know you. We wish you well.”

 

“Even you, King Thranduil?” Zahra asked, raising her eyebrows at the regal elf.

 

He smirked. “Even me,” he drawled.

 

She smiled. “Thanks, tree-hugger,” she said.

 

He nodded. “You’re welcome, child.”

 

She rolled her eyes and jumped when Tilda threw her arms around her waist. “I’ll miss you!” the little girl murmured. “You and your stories!”

 

Zahra patted the child’s head and back. “I’ll miss you too.”

 

“We all will,” Bard said, pulling his daughter back again.

 

“Indeed, we will!” Radagast said, indicating himself and Beorn.

 

“Goodbye, little sparrow,” the bear-man said.

 

Zahra dipped her head to him, smiling. "Good-bye."

 

Then she moved to the Company, those she’d traveled with for weeks and spent so much time with. To each, she gave a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Ori blushed and Nori angled for a peck on the lips but was gently rebuffed. Dori patted his cheeks with a handkerchief after they hugged. Kilí hugged her tightly, picking her up so her feet dangled a few inches off the ground. Filí hugged her just as tightly, but refrained from the lifting. He seemed to have a shimmer in his eyes that he quickly dashed away. Balin was openly crying, though not sobbing. Tears fell into his white forked beard and he returned her kiss with one of his own to her forehead. Dwalin was gruff, as per his usual, and he hugged her quickly and turned his cheek for his kiss, nodding at her and stepping back. As she turned from him, she saw, from the corner of her eye, Balin pat his brother on the shoulder. Bofur and Bombur hugged her generously, whispering farewells. Bifur signed his good-bye to her, which Bofur translated, and then hugged her tightly. Oin and Gloin clapped her on the back and opted for a group hug instead of separate ones. She kissed them both and patted them on the backs. Dain stood next to Thorin and he merely stuck out his hand and she shook it.

 

Then it was Thorin’s turn, and she bent forward and gave him one last kiss on the cheek. “Last one,” she said.

 

He nodded. “I won’t forget you,” he whispered.

 

She smiled, and gave him a gentle hug, careful of his wounds, which he returned with more warmth than he had ever shown her in words or deed. She choked down a sob with difficulty.

 

Gandalf engulfed her and chuckled, popping a kiss on her head. “Farewell, my dear Zahra,” he said. “Do not fear the dark,” he whispered into her ear, “for even it has a light.”

 

She frowned up at him, not understanding, but nodded all the same.

 

And last was….

 

“Bilbo,” she said, turning to the Hobbit. He stood separate from the others, by himself, staring at his large feet.

 

She stepped in front of him and knelt. “I think I’ll miss you most of all,” she whispered, and he smiled, though his eyes shown with tears. “Don’t cry, Bilbo.” She cupped his cheek with one hand, smoothing away the tears that fell. “This is not goodbye forever, if Lady Galadriel is correct. It’s just… see you later.”

 

“I’ll miss you,” he said, looking her in the eyes. The force of his gaze nearly knocked her off her feet and she bit her lip. What she saw there was unexpected and she didn’t know how to react. This was going to be harder than she had ever imagined.

 

“I shall miss you too, my friend,” she replied. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. She took the opportunity to press her lips to the crown of his head, closing her eyes in turn. When she pulled back, they looked at each other a moment, then she stood and looked around at the others. Her battle with her emotions was struggling on and she was losing. “See you later, then!” She grinned even as tears escaped down her cheeks and then turned away, sprinting towards the Millennium Falcon. Lowbacca asked her if she was all right. “I’m fine,” she said, wiping her sleeve across her face. “Let’s go.”

 

They clambered on board and hurried to the cockpit. Taking the pilot’s seat after tossing her pack aside, she ordered Lowie to raise the ramp. “Artoo, engines working?” The droid beeped. She read the reply on a small screen in the console and nodded. “Then we’re outta here.” She and Lowie began to flip switches, turn dials and push buttons. The engines fired up and exhaust ports hissed. The ship hummed to life, and she smiled. “Lift off, in three…two…one!” Lowie pulled the ship up.

 

Through the viewport in front of her, Zahra could see all her friends clumped together, watching, their eyes wide and mouths open. Only Bilbo, Thorin, Gandalf, and the elves watched calmly. She stared at them for a long moment, memorizing their faces, then Lowbacca rotated the ship, pointing it skyward, and they disappeared from her view.

 

Taking over the controls, Zahra flew the ship up through the planet’s atmosphere. “Artoo, are the dragon scales holding?” she asked.

 

He beeped again. She nodded. “Good,” she said. “And the wormhole, Threepio?”

 

“Still there, Mistress Zahra,” the droid answered promptly.

 

“I’m not your mistress,” she muttered. They broke free of the atmosphere. “I see it,” she said.

 

She pointed the nose of the Falcon at the wormhole, and adjusted her trajectory. “Prepare to enter,” she ordered. _Master,_ she thought as the Falcon plunged into the whirling matter, _I’m coming._

 

In a flash, they were gone. And down on the planet below, the people of Middle-earth watched as the ship and its strange inhabitants, who had come so suddenly into their lives, left them at last.

 

The End

 

For Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the end. FINALLY! Woo-hoo! This has been a wonderful experience, and I want to thank you all for going on this journey with me!
> 
> This is the end of the first part of Zahra's story. I'm working on the second part but it is a bit more difficult since I'm dealing with a TV show instead of a movie. The format is different, and I'm having trouble with some elements, but it's still really fun! I do think the next "book" will be darker, with more mature elements, so I felt I should warn you guys before hand. I don't know when I'll start posting it, but hopefully you guys won't have to wait /too/ long, though. But updates may be much more sporadic than with this story. (Sorry in advance!)
> 
> I hope you guys continue to follow Zahra on her journey! Thanks for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments!


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